


A Grain of Sand in His Gears

by CaptainAmelia22



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alchemy, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, Archaeology, Canon Blending, Clockwork devices, Egyptology, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Great Race, Magic, Multiple Personalities, Steampunk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:06:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 93,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainAmelia22/pseuds/CaptainAmelia22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1880 when Dr. Anthony Stark arrives in Cairo, Egypt and declares he has a hankering for archaeology. While most everyone believes it's the eccentric idea of a madman, very few realize the eccentric man is more of a genius, and that he has discovered something of great importance in the ancient ruins of a long dead pharaoh.  Soon an archaeological dig turns into a race against time and some of Stark's greatest enemies.  But with the help of his friends and the very capable assistant provided to him by Colonel Fury, Stark discovers even a tiny grain of sand can serve as the greatest weapon against evil.  </p><p>This is a Steampunk AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Gears Spin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ambpersand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambpersand/gifts).



Cairo, Egypt  
23 December1860

The night Craticus and Harmonia Potts disappeared into the desert was the night of the Winter Solstice. It was dark as sin in Cairo, the gas lights dimmer than normal, the air rife with danger; if the pharaohs had still reigned their priests would have been in their temples imploring Ra to remember them and to rise as soon as possible.

Before the terrors of the night struck the Potts family, Craticus listened to his wife singing in the small ballroom of their airy townhouse and his lips twitched under his mustache. Harmonia had as beautiful a voice as her name recalled and when they were home from a dig or the university she spent most of her time singing at the ballroom piano with their daughter Virginia.

He moved down the hall towards his daughter’s nursery absentmindedly. It wasn't until he opened the door and saw her empty bed with its clever railings to keep her in place and its gauzy netting to keep the Nile mosquitoes at bay, that he remembered she was at their friends Howard’s and Maria’s home visiting their little boy Anthony.

She was safe.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Craticus pulled his pocket watch out of his waistcoat and popped open the cover. A tin-type of Harmonia graced the back of the heavy gold and the crystal face of the watch hid the clever machine he and Stark had created to capture images and voices to replay at will.

Noting the time, he moved to his personal library, idly thinking of the sarcophagus he and Harmonia had brought back from a dig in Memphis but when his hand settled on the doorknob of his sanctuary and found it unlocked, his mind immediately returned to the present and he tensed.

Someone was in their home.

He pushed the door open with the muzzle of his favorite pistol and snapped, “Who’s there? Come on, I know you’re hiding in here! So come out of the shadows, now!”

There was no sound from the room but that of the curtains rustling in the soft breeze coming off of the river. Craticus lowered his gun and moved slowly across the room to his desk lit in a pool of light from the Shelby bulb glowing brightly under its green shade.

A papyrus scroll tied by a piece of string sat on his desk. His mouth went dry at the sight of the blue string and he wondered what dead pharaoh had provided that tiny thread.

He knew what would be written on the scroll.

His hand shook as he unrolled it and his eyes swam in tears at the sight of four words scrawled there.

It is time. Come.

As Harmonia’s fingers danced over the ivory keys of the ballroom piano, Craticus Potts sighed and once more opened his watch, the gears whirring and grinding as he switched on the machine he and Howard Stark had created for this very moment.

It was time.

But at least the key would be safe.

By the time morning dawned, the Potts’ Cairo home was abandoned, along with their 4 year-old daughter and the city officials would chalk it up to the eccentricity of the famous archaeologist duo and bring their tiny daughter to her guardian, Dr. Henry "Hank" Pym, an American entomologist at the Egyptian Museum of Antiquities.

Twenty years came and went and none thought to wonder what exactly had happened to the Potts’; all anyone knew was they had disappeared in the night and most assumed they had perished in a particularly nasty ruin.

At least, that was the common assumption, one even their daughter accepted. That is until the day her father’s watch broke and she realized there may have been something more to the Potts’ and their disappearance.

* * *

 The Step Pyramids

Very Near Saqqara

and

New York City

Stark Mansion  
28 April 1880

Deep in the Egyptian desert, unbeknownst to anyone other than a troubled scientist in the bowels of his best friend’s New York City Mansion, the earth began to tremble. Almost as if something with massive feet were walking across the face of the planet.

As the rumbles grew closer together and the sand and rubble near the base of the step pyramid, long forgotten, began to jigger and shake, a bright blue light seeped from the cracks of the mud and straw bricks of the pyramid.

If any had stood near this relic of long dead kings they would have been blinded by the piercing light and their noses would have twitched as an unusual scent flitted across the wind.

As it was, the faint smell of metal and coconuts went unnoticed by any but a few vultures and asps.

Far away in the softly glowing metropolis of New York City the mansion of Dr. Anthony Stark was silent except for the sound of a clockwork machine deep in Stark’s friend Bruce Banner’s lab as it suddenly began to glow and the needle poised over a sheaf of paper began a small tick.

Banner glanced up wearily at the sound of the needle scratching against the paper and sighed.

“Damned subways,” he muttered as he approached the unusual machine ticking and whirring in the corner. “Did you pick up the Number 2 again? Wonder…ful?” Banner’s eyes widened behind the purple tinted lenses of his glasses as he neared the so-called “YOU.” “What the hell?!”

The needle, once swinging slowly, now danced a veritable jig across the paper and the machine’s globe was glowing.

Glowing with a soft swirling golden light.

Which it had never done before.

“Where are you coming from?” he whispered as he bent over the machine his friend had invented in a drunken stupor to locate magical metals that may act as power sources for his inventions.

Usually the thing just sat and looked pretty in the corner; sometimes it would jiggle with the underground trains riddling Manhattan but it never glowed.

Not like this.

Suddenly the machine started to whine and the light, once gold, now began to turn blue. Bright blue. Banner’s nose twitched at the smell of hot metal rolling off the machine and he found himself craving pina colada’s

Then his eyes widened even further as the map the machine had been drawing finished with a final flourish of the thin, ink infused needle.

“Oh, this is not good. Tony is not going to like this at all,” he muttered as he blinked the afterglow from his eyes and brushed his fingers over the paper rolling out of the machine. “That’s going to be a lot of sand.”  
He jumped as the machine sparked and began to smoke but before he lost the map he yanked it free from the YOU and ran from the lab.

His canvas and leather lab coat flapped around his tweed clothed legs as he rushed through the mansion towards his closest friend’s bedchamber.

It wasn’t until his booted feet were pounding on the plush Turkish rugs of the upper hallways of the mansion that he realized what time it was. And who exactly was in the mansion tonight.

“Oh,” he muttered as he skidded to a halt outside of Stark’s bedroom. “Rumiko.”

He stared at the gold engraved mahogany door of the master bedroom and sighed. To interrupt the man-of-the-house’s nightly activities or to go back to his lab and wonder at the map he held.

“Curse it,” he swore as his gloved fist rose to pound on the door. “He’ll kill me if I don’t tell him right away.”

The door swung open a moment later to reveal a slightly drunk, shirtless Dr. Anthony Stark with tousled hair and lipstick smeared on his neck. “Brucie! Hello, chum! How’s tricks?”

Banner held the map out and his eyes were shadowed behind the tinted lenses of his round glasses. “We found it. We found the metal you need Tony.”

“Excellent!” Stark said not reaching for YOU’s map. “The damned machine worked. Good to know my drunken escapades can still produce things. So,” he glanced at his friend, his eyes glazed with drink. “Where is our precious metal?”

Banner hesitated and ran his fingers through the dense curls atop his head. “You’re not going to like this Tony,” he muttered.

“Oh? Why’s that?” Stark said, his dark brows rising. He looked pleasantly amused. Not worried at all. Banner almost regretted having to tell him the location.

Banner cleared his throat and held the map out. “Egypt,” he said from behind the thick paper. “The metal is in Egypt.”

Stark was quiet for a moment. And then, “Goddammit. Sand.” His fingers rose to his chest and toyed with the clockwork apparatus purring and whirring deep within his musculature. Then his dark eyes met his friend’s over the very detailed map his machine had drawn and he sighed. “Right. Let’s get on this. We have a date with some pharaohs.”

Before Banner could respond, Stark had gone back into his bedroom, the door slamming. Banner’s lips twitched at the muttered, “Sand!” and then he turned back to head down the hall.

He wondered if he’d be able to continue his experiments in the desert.

He hoped so, he was so very close to success.

His eyes, hidden behind the tinted lenses he affected due to a supposed “light sensitivity”, flashed a bright green in the Shelby lights lining the wall and a soft growl slid from his lips.

Banner froze, his hand resting on the silken banister of the grand staircase and he took a deep breath. The slight popping of joints sounded like gunshots in the stuffy silence of the mansion.

He shook his head and folded the map away into his labcoat pocket. “Easy Banner,” he muttered as he headed for the lab. “You’re going into the desert; not the time for a fit.”

Before he broke the banister he rushed the rest of the way down the stairs and deep into his basement lab. He’d have to pack quickly. Knowing Tony, they’d be leaving at dawn.

In three hours.

For Egypt.

A soft buzzing from his lab table made him jump and he threw himself across the room to the Stark Communicator glowing on his table. He lifted the tiny brass machine and pressed the tiny red button before lifting it to his ear. “Hello?” he said uncertainly, his eyes worried.

“We’re leaving tomorrow aren’t we?”

Bruce sighed at the sound of Barton’s voice and sagged into his desk chair. “How’d you know?” he asked.

Stark’s personal bodyguard snorted. “I always know when Stark’s going to do something stupid,” he grumbled. There was a pause and then the sound of a glass bottle tapping the lip of a crystal tumbler came over the Communicator’s speaker. “So where we off to this time Banner?”

“Egypt.”

“Oh goody. Sand. He’s not going to like that. The porcelain doll coming along too?”

Banner flinched at the bodyguard’s reference to the chilly betrothed of their friend and employer. “Yes I expect Madam Fujikawa is coming as well.”

“Great, this is going to be a lovely trip. Sand and the ice-queen. Remind me to hit the liquor store before we leave.

Banner only laughed and said his goodbyes to the bodyguard. Then as the machine cooled in his hand he lowered the receiver and glanced around his lab.

He’d better pack up.

* * *

When dawn broke, the docks of the Hudson Bay were bustling with people of every walk of life. Businessmen brushed elbows with maids, mercenaries tipped hats to chefs. Cheerful voices filled the cool morning air and as they hurried between ropes as thick as a man’s forearm they only casually glanced at the several lighter-than-air craft floating serenely above the docks.

Every now and then a thread of conversation would rise above the chatter.

“Did you hear? Dr. Stark is going abroad again!”

“Coo! Where’s that blasted man off to this time?”

“Maybe he’s off to the Orient again? Maybe his betrothed has gotten tired of the drink and the tinkering. Just like Maria had…”

Everywhere the name Stark could be heard and as the sun slowly rose, the New York citizens became ever more excited. When the familiar purr of the clockwork engines Stark specialized in broke through the chatter the crowds split to reveal the unusual vehicles Stark and his enclave drove.

The rumors surrounding the vehicles were Stark had gone to the future and stolen designs from a rival inventor’s son.

It was a well-known fact that Stark had a time machine.

Sun glinted off of rounded fenders, bright brass and scarlet and gold paint. The Stark seal, a bright blue circle surrounding a triangle which represented Stark Enterprises credo (research, knowledge and invention) graced the doors of the unusual vehicles said to run on alcohol fumes which Stark breathed into the brass gears.

As the vehicles fanned across the docks the guards standing on the running boards jumped off and began chasing the nosies away.

“All right you birds, get back to your nests,” one of the guards said. His hands fiddled with his crossbow in a very non-menacingly way and at the sight of its brass gears clicking a spinning and taut strings pulling against the bolt, the few remaining stand-around’s fled.

“Caw-caw,” said a muffled voice from the dim interior of the vehicle the guard stood over. “Get out of the way Barton.”

Before Clinton Barton could respond the heavy metal door swung open and world-famous Dr. Stark stepped out. He waved to the gawking maids and ruffled merc’s and muttered, “All right, let’s get to the ship. We were supposed to cast off an hour ago.” He didn’t glance behind him at the stoic woman sitting on the plush leather seat of his personal vehicle. Barton only rolled his eyes.

Before the sun had reached its apex the lighter-than-air craft embossed with the Stark Enterprises logo had cast off and was only a dim blur on the horizon.

That didn’t mean the rumors flying around the dock had slowed. If anything, they had increased in ridiculousness.

By the end of the day, it was a well-known fact that Dr. Stark was flying over the Arctic to find a treasure that had sunk there during the Napoleonic Wars. None even began to consider the fact that Dr. Stark would be going to the Egyptian deserts.

Sand, after-all, was one of Stark’s greatest enemies.


	2. The Girl in the Library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right. 
> 
> Here we go guys. I've been playing with this story for a while now so bear with me. Steampunk is one of my passions, I literally read or watch anything even remotely related to the genre and I've been wanting to do this story for a very long time. 
> 
> A bunch of thanks to my best friend, soul mate and voice of reason Ambpersand. She's an amazing beta and often times the one source of my sanity. Thanks for keeping me on track and for providing much needed information on the Merc with the Mouth.
> 
> Please let me know how it goes. This is going to be a huge project so I apologize if I don't update regularly. 
> 
> Ever yours.
> 
> -M

Cairo, Egypt  
The Citadel, SHIELD Headquarters  
5 May 1880

Philip Coulson, one of SHIELD’s best agents glanced up at the sound of the wire-girl’s heels on the marble floors of his office.

“Please don’t tell me Akila,” he grumbled as the girl dropped the telegram on his desk. “Somebody took a lighter-than-air ship into the desert and got stranded in a village.”

“No, no!” the wire-girl said, her eyes wide from the depths of her veil. “Read it Mr. Phil!”

Her fingers tapped the thin yellow paper and Coulson sighed in resignation. Then he opened the telegram and his eyes widened as he read. Before he had even finished the lines he was grabbing his hat and coat and running down the hall towards Fury’s office.

His boots were loud in the cavernous hallways of the Cairo Citadel and when he burst into Fury’s office the Colonel and his mechanical (or mech, as most referred to the robots drifting around the citadel) assistant Hill stared at him in surprise.

“Telegram,” he panted, the thin paper clutched in his fingers. “Telegram from Morocco, Colonel.”

His hands shook as he handed the telegram over to his Director and he began to sweat under the gold eye whirring and glowing deep from the scarred socket in the Colonel’s face. Hill, approached her master, the only sound she made the soft whir and grind of her geared joints. “Director?” she asked, her voice far more human than machine, “What does the message say?”

Fury glanced from human to mech before reading the message aloud, his voice a deep, menacing growl:

_Coulson -(STOP)- Stark team arriving Cairo -(STOP)- Noon 5 May 1880 -(STOP)- Request military escort and personal aid -(STOP)- Fury owes Stark favor -(STOP)- Don't rescind -(STOP)-Stark_

When he finished he glanced at his assistants once more and sighed. “Get Rogers, Logan and Buchanan. We’re needed at the docks.”

And then he stood and made his way out of his office, the only sign of the favor he owed Dr. Anthony Stark the slight limp in his right leg.

Coulson watched his Director and assistant leave the office and then he sighed. “Stark in Cairo,” he muttered as he headed for the SHIELD barracks and the three men Fury had requested. “This cannot be good.”

* * *

2,000 ft. over Cairo

5 May 1880

Dr. Anthony Stark hated sand. Sand ruined his inventions by scratching the gears and clockwork that ran his work. Sand clogged his throat. Sand got under his shirt and into his heart. Sand was disgusting.

So naturally he had to go to Egypt.

“Ru!” he bellowed, his voice echoing from the washroom of his private quarters in the Stark Enterprises lighter-than-air ship he had designed for cross-Atlantic flight. He stared at himself in the mirror as he waited for his fiancée to appear and ignored the pain in his chest.

His dark eyes gazed thoughtfully at the gears winding and churning in his chest and he couldn’t help the worry of what this little misadventure in the deserts of the Old Kingdom would do to his clockwork.

“Rumiko!” his voice was not hysterical; it was polished, controlled. Not panicked at all. Or so he told himself. “I need you!”

A soft sigh heralded the arrival of his betrothed and Tony breathed a sigh of relief as his Japanese warrior princess appeared in the washroom doorway. “What is wrong Tony?” Rumiko Fujikawa asked, her voice soft, modulated. The only sign that she was annoyed was the slight crinkling of her brow which puckered the white powder she wore. Stark hated that makeup. He told her to not wear it, that the arsenic within the powder would kill her one day.

She’d return with a pointed look at the tumbler of scotch in his hand and the cigar in his mouth.

He would ignore the makeup for a few days after that.

“I need you to dismantle me Ru,” he murmured as he gazed at her in the mirror. He ignored the flash of barely controlled anger in her eyes. “Please.”

“Tony,” she sighed as she approached him, the only sound of her progress over the marble floors the whisper of her silk kimono as it whisked across her knees. “I am not your assistant! I am not qualified-“

“You are,” he whispered as he turned to her. His hand rose to stroke her white cheek but she backed away.

Rumiko shook her head, the soft braids of her hair trembling with the smooth movement. “No,” she murmured. “I am not. You should fix your mech assistant so he can help you! If you did that instead of gambling every night with Mr. Barton and the crewmen of this infernal vessel then you would not be in this predicament, my love.” Her dark eyes, heavily outlined in kohl as was the fashion in Japan, were sharp and Stark did not miss the irony in her voice at the endearment.

He sighed and tapped his fingers against the apparatus in his chest, the apparatus that kept his heart beating. “Dummy is broken for the duration of our journey in Egypt. It’ll be all I can do to keep JARVIS up and running. Dummy’s gears are open to the elements. I shouldn’t have brought him on this venture. I hope Fury has a human assistant I can use.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and thought of the telegram he’d just sent to the man he both loathed and respected. Then he sighed and turned to his fiancée, his fingers stroking the brass clockwork spinning in his chest. “It’s gotten sand in it again,” he muttered in irritation. “I don’t know how, but the moment we crossed the Delta, sand has gotten into everything. How am I supposed to cross the desert if I can’t even keep my own damn heart beating?” He glanced at Rumiko, who had folded her hands into the wide sleeves of her kimono, and he sighed. “Please, Ru? Just this once. Bruce is sleeping off another fit and Barton’s an ass. And Peggy is…well, she’s probably in the boiler room.”

He cringed at the thought of his dark eyed cousin scrambling through his machinery in his stolen pants. What would her mother say? They had all given up on Margaret Carter becoming a respectable young lady who did nothing but sip tea and twirl parasols. She was too much of a Stark for such mundane activities. Thus her being here.

Rumiko gazed at him for a long moment, her eyes shadowed and then sighed. “Very well,” she muttered as she turned to leave the washroom. “Come to the bed. It will be easier to dismantle your gears if you are lying down.”

Stark breathed a sigh of relief and finally allowed himself a wince as the gear deep within his chest once more caught on the sand infiltrating his system and stuttered in its usually smooth movement. “Thank you,” he murmured as he dropped onto his bed and laid himself bare for the woman he was supposed to marry.

Rumiko only shook her head, tightened the silk sleeves of her robe, and grabbed a pair of magnifying lenses from the desk and a set of specially designed tiny diamond infused screwdrivers she’d seen Stark and his mech assistant use for this procedure and she then set to work.

For a long moment the only noise in the elegantly appointed great-room was the sound of her taking Anthony Stark’s chest apart. He breathed steadily, his eyes hooded and tried to keep from panicking. This was the worst part of his curse; the puzzle board of his heart. The slow and steady spin of the gears clustered in the brass cavity of his chest kept his heart beating but more importantly it kept the tiny bullet fragments lodged in the muscle from shredding him to bits.

As Rumiko pulled gear after gear, screw after screw, from his chest he tried to ignore the haunting memories of that bullet shattering through his ribs. He tried to forget the memory of Yinsen bending over him with the soft glow of brass and steel shining in his glasses.

He gasped as pain ripped through his chest and his heart stuttered; Ru paused, her dark eyes wide but he waved her on. She nodded after a second of worry and then her fingers closed around the troublesome gear; her eyes widened as the lenses of her glasses caught sight of the tiny crystal of sand lodged under a tooth of the gear and she swore softly in Japanese.

Stark chuckled painfully and stretched out a hand towards the chest sitting at his hip; it was his emergency kit, his back-up of gears should something like this happen. He’d made thousands of copies for each specific part in his chest before embarking on this journey. If there was one thing he had learned while traveling with Dr. Banner through the deserts of the world, it was always have back-up gears.

“Here,” he choked as he handed her a tiny brass gear the size of his thumbnail. “Don’t put the old one in. Now hurry, you have about 2 minutes before my heart gives out.” He coughed weakly and Ru jumped.

“Are you all right Tony?” she muttered as she once more plunged her hands into his chest and began to repair his heart. He tried to ignore how uncomfortable it was.

“Yes, fine,” he ground out as she snapped him back together one by one. Piece by damned piece. His curse.

Finally, minutes later, the only sound in the room was the steady whir and click of his heart and he sighed. Back together. And no sand to be found.

“Thank you Rumiko,” he murmured as he sat upright. “You have honored me,” he said formally.

She only stroked his cheek, her eyes troubled and murmured, “My father never told me how difficult it would be to love you Anthony Stark,” she whispered.

And then she left his quarters. Stark gazed after his betrothed and fought the guilt ripping like a bullet through his chest. Did loving him mean putting him back together every time some sand broke him?

He suspected so.

He sighed and began to button his shirt. No matter. He had his inventions, had his mech to tinker with. He’d make do. Just like always.

As he tied his ascot and buttoned his waistcoat the whistle of his airship blew and he smiled.

They had arrived.

They were in Cairo.

And soon they would be on their way to Saqqara.

When he disembarked from his airship onto the docks of Cairo, the only sign that Anthony Stark wasn’t quite human was the soft whir and click of his heart and the smarmy, self-assured smile on his lips that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

* * *

“I’m going to need a human assistant Colonel.” Stark’s voice was harsh in the stagnant air of Fury’s office. His dark eyes, so blue they were almost black, blazed furiously at the stoic Director sitting before him. “I asked for help Fury. You’re going to give it to me.”

“Oh?” the Colonel said, his voice cold as he leaned forward in his chair. “Last I heard from you Stark you wrote to tell me you’d offered my best assassin a higher pay grade and a good time. That doesn’t make you very high up on my list of favorite people right now.”

The gold eye glinted ominously from Fury’s left socket and Stark knew the tiny lenses and gears deep within the optics were providing the Colonel with images of his heart rate, body temperature and that particular piece of alchemy he’d managed to invent on a whimsical tour of Shangri-La, what emotions he was experiencing currently.

Stark’s lips lifted in his dry smirk he usually reserved for his enemies as he leaned his hands on the Colonel’s desk and bent towards the man’s scarred face. “Interesting. Last I heard, Barton was going to be retired; something about archery being a dead art form and all that. Seems to me I saved him the task of a pesky job search.” Stark’s voice was cold, controlled but his anger meant his eyes glowed fiercely. Fury met his furious gaze calmly, his half-mech gaze shadowed. Stark’s smirk grew and he pulled a tiny apparatus out of his pocket.

It was brass, about the size of Stark’s cupped palm and as his thumb brushed the tiny switch rising out of the shining surface Fury stiffened.  
“Stark,” he growled, his gold eye enraptured with the device held in the troublesome inventor’s hand. “Don’t you d-“

“How’s your leg working for you Fury?” Stark asked, the only sign that he was smirking, the crooked cock of his mustache. His thumb continued stroking the device, brushing dangerously across the knob of the switch and in the soft Egyptian light filtering through the lead paned windows of Fury’s office, Stark could swear he saw sweat begin to spot the Colonel’s forehead. His smile widened as the Colonel stood slowly and flipped a similar switch on his desk surface.

“Damned Stark,” he muttered as the door of his office swung open to reveal the brass and leather clockwork miracle that was Hill. Stark glanced at the mech over his shoulder and winked as she strode smoothly into the room. Fury relaxed as Stark slipped his device once more into his jacket and he said to the mech as she settled next to him, “Get Rogers; they have something they need to reclaim from the Museum.”

Hill nodded, her gears spinning and ticking in mechanical life and with a sigh of metal joints she beckoned Stark to follow her.

He glanced at the Colonel, a small frown on his forehead and his fingers rose to press absentmindedly against his chest. “Museum? What’s at the museum?”

“Your assistant,” Fury growled, his golden eye flashing angrily. That, paired with his tone of voice, brooked no argument. “Now get out of my sight.”

“Yes sir!” Stark said with a mocking salute and sharp click of his heeled boots. “Thank you ever so much for your assistance.”

“Anything to get you out of Cairo,” Fury growled as the world-famous genius, inventor, rake, adventurer, tugged his scarlet and gold embroidered waistcoat straight, slapped his slouch hat on his swept back hair and slid a pair of tinted glasses over his eyes. Stark gave no sign that he had heard the Colonel’s mutterings except for a warning brush of his pocket.

As the door closed behind mech and man, Fury leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. Stark hadn’t said why he was in the Old Kingdom. He’d only said he had had a hankering to see the pyramids and to take his betrothed on a tour of the desert.

Fury didn’t believe him.

He glanced at the papers spread on his desk and considered the three men he was sending with Stark. All three were trustworthy, all three knew what was at stake if Stark was in Egypt for something other than a Grand Tour and all three were prepared to do whatever necessary to keep the world safe.

Even if that meant the detainment and ultimate neutralizing of Howard Stark’s son.

Especially if that meant the detainment and neutralizing of Howard Stark’s son.

He summoned Hill a while later and asked her to retrieve Coulson and to send him to his office.

He had some very troubling news for his assistant.

* * *

The faint blue image of her father stammered and then went blank. Virginia Potts sighed in frustration and adjusted the jewelers knot resting in the socket of her eye.

“Blasted thing,” she grumbled as she bent over her father’s watch; sand, an ever present nuisance in Cairo, had somehow gotten into the gears and damaged the spectroscope. “How am I supposed to fix this when I hardly know how it works?! There’s nothing in the books. Nothing about this image machine or how the gears work!” There was a faint snap and she pulled her hand quickly from the bowels of the watch to stare at the now-crooked edge of her nail. “Blast,” she swore, her faintly accented voice cross in the still, dusty silence of the Great Library of the Egyptian Museum.

Raising her finger to her mouth she quickly evened the nail, her eyes fixed on the golden gears of her father’s watch. How was she supposed to fix this? She didn’t want to give it to the boys; Steve would only break it, Bucky would tell her to pawn it and Logan would use it as an ash tray.

She supposed she could take it to Hank, but she didn’t want to tell him she’d broken the watch.

“Just work,” she groaned, her hand falling to stroke the crystal face of the watch. A few tears pricked her eyes as the bone-deep longing to hear and see her father overwhelmed her.

With a tremulous sigh she bent once more over the watch to gaze uselessly at gears she barely understood. The Library was still, warm, peaceful, just like always and as she fiddled with the watch she let her mind begin to wander to think on the news the boys had brought her this afternoon after returning from the docks with the Colonel.

A lighter-than-air ship had docked at the Nile docks this afternoon and rumor said there was a world-famous adventurer setting forth to find a long-lost treasure of the pharaohs.

She wondered who it was. Perhaps it was Jules Verne once more searching for inspiration on a novel. Whoever it was, it wouldn’t be Dr. Anthony Stark or his team of scientists. Dr. Stark was notorious for his loathing of sand and snow. He stuck to the Orient, mostly for the “entertainments” that far-off world offered, and he had never stepped foot in Africa.

She couldn’t help hoping though…

She’d never met Stark; she’d only heard stories from her guardian and his friends. Stories of a prodigal son who created weapons of such power they helped the Empire win the Afghanistan war single-handedly. Stories of a man who held galas in the three ballrooms of his mansion but never emerged from his secret workshop. Stories of a man who had repented of his war-mongering after nearly dying at the hands of militants his nearest and dearest friend had sold him to. Stories of Stark abounded in the modern world.

And Virginia Potts knew she would never meet him.

She’d only ever read of his latest escapades or newest mechanical miracle in the papers.

Sighing morosely, her breath making the dust motes swirl in the pool of sunlight she sat in, she began to close the watch face. She’d broken it for good this time and she’d have to-

She froze when a tanned and scarred hand settled on hers, stopping her from closing the watch. Her light blue eyes widened and she gasped as the owner of the hand sat across from her, a crooked smile making his mustache twitch over perfectly white teeth.

She gaped foolishly as the intruder said, “Having technical issues?” in a well-modulated voice.

His eyes, dark behind the tinted lenses of his glasses, sparkled with mirth and something else and Virginia blushed furiously. She tried to pull the watch from his hand but his callused fingers tightened over hers and she jumped as their warm touch locked over her wrist.

“Let go of me,” she snapped, her voice cracking in the still silence of the Library.

“But I can fix this for you,” he said, a small frown wrinkling the tanned skin of his face. He continued, ignoring her discomfort, “It’s a familiar design, something my father loved to do for all of his friends. Said it gave the watches the men loved a new meaning. He loved to tinker, in the early days, before the war. I suspect you banged the gears around a little too much and the lenses of the spectroscope slipped.” As he spoke the man moved her hand and drew the watch closer to him. Virginia was enraptured, both by this man’s soft voice and by his rough fingers. She wondered at him; he was dressed like an aristocrat, all silks, leathers and brass but his hands and tanned skin spoke of something else.

Of a man who worked with his hands.

He had fallen silent as he rummaged in the breast pocket of his coat and she gasped as he withdrew a case of the most exquisite tools she had ever seen. He glanced at her, a small smirk on his lips and he tapped the rims of his glasses which whirred and adjusted, allowing his vision to become magnified; Virginia gasped at this display of stellar mech work and she leant forward to study the apparatus as it adjusted over his face. “I’ll have this sorted out in no-time; I was right, the lenses slipped.” He glanced at her, his eyes much broader than normal behind the now thick lenses of his glasses. “Did the message left in the machine get corrupted?”

She hesitated and then nodded, “Yes,” she murmured, her chin resting on her hands. “The usual message is from my father but today when I went to play the hologram there was an odd flash of light, his figure wavered and an image of an unusual pyramid appeared where he was meant to stand. I just assumed some sand got in the mechanism that allows the image to play and damaged some gears.” She sighed as he placed gears one-by-one on the surface of the table. “I thought I would be able to fix it,” she murmured sadly. “I didn’t want to take it to the boys or Hank. They’d never stop making jokes about how women aren’t meant to handle mech.”

Her nose wrinkled in irritation and her visitor paused halfway through his repair to gaze interestedly at the beautiful young woman sitting across from him. He’d seen her as he and the broad shouldered Neanderthal Hill had left him with had passed by the library and he’d given the monotonous soldier the slip.

He’d never been able to resist a pretty woman in distress.

Especially when it seemed her red gold hair glowed as if it were on fire and the sun silhouetted her slender frame perfectly.

He jumped when he realized he’d been staring at this particular distressed female for a little too long to be proper and he cleared his throat as he once more bent to his task. “Nonsense,” he muttered. “Some of the best inventors I know are women. My cousin Peggy loves machines, half the time she’s covered in some sort of mechanical by-flow, which never ceases to irritate her mother. One of my closest friends, Maya, helped me design the automobiles I drive when I am home. They go nearly fifty miles to the hour now, quite amazing really. And my fiancée,” he paused as there was a faint click within the watch’s mechanical bowels and he nodded to himself before continuing. “My fiancée, Ru? She and her father own nearly thirty patents each on weapons and apparati that they’ve invented. So,” he raised his eyes to hers, not noticing how wide hers were or how pale her usually tanned cheeks had become. “Women are just as capable of working mech as men; it’s all about a person’s touch and mentality.” He hesitated when she raised her hand to her mouth and he cocked his head. “Sorry, did I say something wrong?” he asked curiously as she stared at him in shock.

“You’re Dr. Stark!” she gasped from behind her fingers, her whole body trembling.

Before he could respond there was a faint whir of gears and the tell-tale click of the spectroscope’s lenses clicking in place. Their eyes fell to the tiny golden watch in surprise and he frowned. “What’s this? I haven’t gotten it all back together yet!”

Then, with nary a by-your-leave, there was a flash of bright blue light paired with an acrid scent of hot metal and tropical fruit and an image rose out of the watch’s face.

Virginia and Stark gasped, their eyes blinded slightly by the light and she muttered as the light swirled and coalesced into an image of an ancient mud-and-straw brick pyramid. “That was what I saw before! It’s the tomb…”

There was another flash and then images of galloping jackals, flying storks and writhing asps began to swirl in a circle above the watch face. Virginia gasped as the significance of those images struck her and she reached into the pocket of her work-dress for her notebook and bit of pencil. Her eyes snapped back to the watch, though, at the sound of her father’s voice.

She froze as he rose out of the watch’s surface to stand once more before her in blue-tinted miniature and tears began to flood her eyes at his gently smiling face.

 _Pepper_ , he said, his voice echoing. _My brave girl, you’ve found the key. I knew you would. Trust Howard and his clever inventions to get you on the right path. Bravo darling. So as you have most likely realized by now, the key is in the steps. Follow the dog, the snake and the bird and you will find the stars my darling daughter. Goodbye. Now that you have found the key, I’m afraid you will no longer be able to access my image. Howard designed the lenses to break when the locks are broken. So this will be the last you see me. I am sorry, but I cannot risk the key falling into the wrong hands. So be well my love, be brave and be strong. Remember your mother and I love you. Reach for the stars Pepper. You of all people deserve to touch them._

Virginia sobbed as he smiled in farewell and then with a distinct shattering of glass he disappeared along with the images of ancient Egyptian totems.

“Papa,” she whispered brokenly, her fingers rising to stroke the crystal face of the watch. “Please don’t leave me.”

But he was gone. Forever now.

A single tear rolled down her cheek to splash across the surface of the watch and she jumped as a tanned and callused hand rose to stroke her other tears away.

“Shush,” her visitor murmured, his voice soft and sympathetic. “It’s all right Pepper-“

She jerked at the use of her father’s pet name for her and she rose suddenly. “Do not call me that,” she snapped, her voice wavering only a little. Before he could react she had grabbed the watch and run from the library, her heels loud on the tiled floors of the Museum.

As she neared the door she slammed into a broad expanse of muscled chest which barely moved at the impact and she struggled briefly as gentle hands settled on her shoulders.

“Miss Potts? Are you well,” said a familiar voice but she was in no mood for chatting with her friends from the Citadel.

“Let me go Captain Rogers,” she snapped, her head ducked so he wouldn’t see her tears. “I am late for dinner and I need to return home.” She broke free from the Captain’s grasp and brushed past he and his bewildered companion she vaguely recognized from the science department of the Museum. “Goodbye,” she muttered as she once more rushed down the hall towards the coatroom and ultimately escape.

How could she sit and chat with big hearted soldiers and quiet voiced scientists?

She’d lost her father again.

Behind her, still in the Library, the American genius Dr. Anthony Stark glanced from worried soldier to kind faced scientist named Reed Richards and pointed in the direction of the door and said, “I already found my assistant Captain, thank you.”

And then he too left the Museum, a confident swagger in his hips. He’d heard the mysterious message his father had helped place in that woman’s watch. He’d seen her eyes and he’d seen the knowledge at play there. He knew she would need to act on her father’s last message. As he made his way through the streets of Cairo a soft beeping accompanied his footsteps; he knew exactly where he was going and as he walked he generated the best job offer he could ever create. How could anyone think to refuse him?

Anthony Stark always offered the best jobs.


	3. Partners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After some discussion with my lovely beta, I thought I'd provide a hint on how to pronounce the names of 3rd Dynasty King's and their kingdoms.
> 
> Djoser is pronounced D-yo-sir. Sort of like Mjolnir is pronounced Mm-ye-l-near. 
> 
> Saqqara is pronounced Sak-car-ah. 
> 
> Oh and a personal note on the Steampunk things-mech is short for mechanism. 
> 
> I hope that helps! 
> 
> Happy reading.
> 
> -M

Virginia paused in the doorway of her home and glanced over her shoulder; she was not sure, but for a moment she’d thought she’d seen someone moving in the shadows under the lemon trees flanking the front gate of the garden. She nibbled her lip and briefly pondered releasing her guardian’s mech assistants but decided against it. 

It was a very windy night. The robots would simply get sand in their gears again and she’d never hear the end of it. 

“There’s nothing there Virginia,” she muttered as she shrugged out of her frock coat and removed her hat and veil. Her skin prickled though and she couldn’t help reflecting on her evening’s activities in the library. She’d been horribly rude with Dr. Stark and she couldn’t help feeling guilty about her brusqueness with Captain Rogers. She’d have to find him and apologize for her behavior. 

She had almost convinced herself to once more return to the streets of Cairo and go to the Citadel in hopes of making amends with her friend but at that moment one of her guardian’s called for her. 

“Virginia, dear, is that you?” 

Her lips lifted at the cheerful voice of Dr. Janet van Dyne-Pym and she called just as cheerfully, “Yes Aunt Jan, it’s me. My apologies for not announcing myself, I had to hurry to get out of the wind.” 

She rolled her eyes as Henry called out, “Did you alert the Ultrons? They would have brought you a parasol to help combat the beastly sand billowing about!”

Glancing over her shoulder to the niches hidden in the shadows at either side of the door she shivered at the sight of her guardian’s robots. The Ultron’s red glassy eyes gazed blankly back at her and she tried to ignore the sense of unease they brought her. 

“No Uncle Henry,” she called as she removed her goggles and shook the sand out of her ruffled skirts. “I simply ran up the walk. There really was no trouble.” Other than someone possibly following her and lurking in the lemon trees. 

She flipped the switches placed in the brass chest plates of each mech and darted away from the Ultrons as they rose from their stations; she had always hated how smoothly and silently they moved but there was something oddly sinister about the mech sentinels tonight. 

She followed the voices of her guardians down the hall towards the slightly cracked door nestled between the parlor and dining room; she paused in the doorway of the massive library that took up most of the ground floor of the Pym’s three story townhouse and she chuckled at the sight of Drs. Janet and Henry Pym, her brilliant guardians, in the middle of yet another fitting. 

“Whatever are you doing now, you two?” she said with a sigh as she plopped haphazardly across a settee. “Don’t tell me,” she said, her hand rising as Hank turned in her direction, his eyes glowing from behind the scarlet lenses of his goggles. “You’re having another go at talking to bugs Uncle Henry.” 

“Formicidae, Virginia. Formicidae,” her guardian said solemnly as he adjusted the silver knobs of his helmet at the temples. “I believe I’ve nearly made a breakthrough this time.”

“Nearly being the operative word,” quipped Janet Pym from beside her husband. She was up on a stool, her yellow and black evening gown rustling with every movement she made as she adjusted her husband’s helmet. “Why you sent Benjamin away before you finished this I will never understand.” 

Henry Pym made a rather rude noise and Virginia laughed as his impressive blonde mustache twitched in irritation. “Grimm is not as tender with the mech as you my dear. You and Virginia have the smallest hands in this house and since the latter was not available I simply had to ask you.” 

“Simply had to ask me, my fat granny’s bustle,” muttered Janet as the antennae her tiny fingers had been tightening clicked into place. “You are such a nuisance Hank; you only ever desire to show off. Well, there you go. You’re all buttoned up. Now, can we please finish getting ready for this gala? You do know how the Richards’ hate latecomers to their scientific exhibitions.” As she spoke she made her way down the step ladder and Virginia hurried to steady her. “Thank you my dear. Now Hank-Oh come now you great lummox! Please don’t summon anymore vermin to this blasted library! The Ultrons only just now succeeded in removing the red heron Johnny t from the Athena fountain!” 

Virginia chuckled as she watched Janet chase down Henry and stand on her tiptoes to wrench the helmet from his head. He was chattering all the while of his success, his hands cradling several ants she was sure she’d seen nibbling at a plate of forgotten biscuits only yesterday. 

“Uncle Henry you’re going to give Aunt Jan a nervous fit if you keep playing with your bugs!” she said as she and Janet looped their arms through his and steered him from the library towards the great stairway. They both chuckled at his blustery declaration of “Formicidae! Please use their scientific nomenclature Virginia!” “Now what are you two troublemaker’s up to tonight,” she said as the three of them mounted the stairs. 

Henry glanced up from his helmet, his thick blonde hair falling in his eyes and he said, “Well, Reed’s found something of interest in the Museum, something he believes proves his theory that the ancients of this marvelous kingdom knew of the basic laws of our planet! It’s quite extraordinary, the physics-“

Before he could continue the alarm bells deep within the library began to clang discordantly and the three froze as the two Ultrons usually stationed beside the front door burst through said door bearing a rather battered dark haired man in a scarlet and gold waistcoat and black hooded duster.

Virginia and Janet gasped in horror as the man was thrown rather roughly at the base of the stairs while Henry could barely contain his glee at the sight of his pets fulfilling their mission. 

His pleasure was short lived, of course, for at that moment the right-hand Ultron smoked and stuttered and then keeled to the ground; the other Ultron, sensing its brother’s discomfiture simply shut down with a tired sigh of spinning gears. Henry grumbled in frustration and made his way back down the stairs. Before he got halfway though, their intruder raised his head and said with a wry grin, as Virginia gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth, “Sorry old chum, but I believe there’s some sand in your mech’s gears. Seems to be a common occurrence in this blasted city.” 

His dark eyes sparkled in the bright lamps lining the stucco walls of the Pym’s townhouse and he tipped his fingers to his forehead as he caught sight of the pale women standing behind the blonde master-of-the house. “Well hello again Pepper. Imagine seeing you here!” he said as he stood carefully. 

She hissed and tossed her gloves in his face. “Don’t. Call. Me. Pepper!” she gritted out as she rushed down the stairs to shove against his chest. She barely noticed the cold metal under her hands but backed quickly away as his hands rose to catch hers. 

“Quite right, sir,” said Henry, a small smile on his lips as he came the rest of the way down the stairs, his wife at his side. “Virginia very rarely allows anyone to call her by her many nicknames, least of all a burglar. So, my boy. What are you doing sneaking about my garden?” 

Janet smiled at the young man and studied his features carefully. He seemed rather familiar…

“Well,” said their intruder cheerfully as he dusted off his waistcoat and straightened his silk ascot. “I was simply hoping to call on Miss Potts here; that is your name, correct, madam?” He knew it was. He’d heard the good Captain say it before she’d torn off in a tizzy. He made sure his smarmy, self-assured smile was in place as he caught her hand and planted a kiss on her knuckles. “What a pleasure to see you so soon!” 

Virginia scowled and tried to remove her hand from the man’s callused touch but he only tightened his hold on her, his dark blue eyes glittering like the blue gold her mother had once cherished. Her mouth popped open to further disparage the man but at that moment Janet Pym spoke up, her dark eyes curious as she approached the young man holding their ward. “My dear you are so very familiar. Have we met before?” 

Virginia’s eyes rolled as he dropped her hand and executed a courtly bow, his hat brushing the marble parquet floors of her home. “My apologies madam! I forgot that while your lovely niece and I have met, rather recently I may add, I have not been introduced to her relatives!” He rose and ran a hand through his disheveled black hair, further mussing it. “I am Anthony Stark, inventor, recently arrived in Cairo. How do you do?”

His white teeth, startlingly bright against his tan skin and neat beard and mustache, flashed in the bright light of the Pym’s home and Virginia found it was hard to tear her gaze away from his lips. 

Henry and Janet gasped at his introduction and Henry’s hand fell heavily on the young man’s shoulder. “Stark?!” he snapped. “Howard’s boy? I should have known. Never thought I’d see the day when a Stark would return to Cairo. Well,” he chuckled at the slightly uncomfortable look on the younger man’s face and began making his way towards the parlor. “I’m happy to report the curator at the Museum from back in your father’s day is long gone, so any ill-gotten legacy your father may have left behind with his departure will not arise. Better come to the parlor my boy. Jan, darling, send for some tea and sandwiches. The Richards’ will have to wait!”

Janet sighed and pushed Virginia gently after the men. “Better go my dear. I’ll tell Cook that we’re not leaving quite yet.” 

“Aunt Jan!” Virginia exclaimed as she watched her aunt begin heading for the kitchens. Her guardian turned and the young woman blushed as she whispered, “What do I do? He obviously followed me here! I don’t want to talk to him!”

Janet laughed and waved a hand in dismissal. “Nonsense my dear! He’s the son of our very dear friends! And he’s a very wealthy inventor from America! You must entertain him, if only for appearances! Hank will keep him in line.” 

Virginia hesitated and then slid her hand into the pocket of her dress. As her fingers closed around the now defunct metal of her father’s watch she sighed; Janet was right. She must be polite. Besides, Stark may be incorrigible but he obviously knew his way around mechanisms like the spectroscope. 

If anyone could find a way to repair her watch it would be him. 

As she hurried towards the doors of her aunt’s airy parlor her ears pricked at the mention of Colonel Fury, a man she had provided assistance for in the past, and she froze, half hidden behind the dark mahogany wood. Stark was discussing his appearance at the Museum today. She found her curiosity peaked and she waited with baited breath to see if he would bring to light why he’d followed her home. 

“…I find myself stranded without an assistant Dr. Pym. My mech, while of the highest caliber and of my own design, is simply not cut out for such an extensive jaunt through the Sahara. I called in a favor with the Colonel, something he’s owed me since Afghanistan.”

“Of course, these sands can be most trying for the machines needed for our day-to-day lives. You experienced that first hand with my Ultrons tonight,” murmured her guardian. 

“Quite.” Virginia rolled her eyes at the man’s sardonic voice but didn’t move from the doorway. She wanted to hear more about the favor the Colonel owed the man. “So you see my dilemma. While mech is ideal, due to their efficiency and loyalty, they are not ideal for a Grand Tour of Egypt. The Colonel sent me to a man named Reed Richards-“

“A very amazing scientist! And a personal friend. He’ll make a very capable assistant and adviser, Anthony.” Her uncle sounded quite pleased about this turn of events and Virginia almost sighed in relief. She had been afraid for a moment…

“Well, the thing is Dr. Pym,” Stark said slowly. “I believe I’ve found my assistant and it’s your niece sir. She has the most extraordinary device. A device with an unusual message. You know of what I speak?”

Virginia peeked around the door and her eyes narrowed at the sight of Henry Pym fiddling nervously with his red silk ascot. Her normally jovial guardian was distinctly uncomfortable and she realized right off that he knew of what Stark was speaking. 

And he’d never told her!

“You’ve heard my father’s message before Uncle Henry, haven’t you?!” she gasped as she rushed the rest of the way into the room.

Stark’s dark eyes settled on her knowingly but she had no time for the egotistical inventor. Her attention was focused on her guardian, a man she would trust with her life, as he turned away from her and poured himself a stout glass of whiskey. 

“Uncle Henry you have to tell me what my father meant,” she said, her fingers locked tightly around the watch in her pocket. “What did he mean? Why did he leave such a cryptic hologram in his watch? Tell me, please,” she begged as her tiny hands rose to grip Henry Pym’s muscular forearm. 

Stark was quiet, a smirk on his lips as he realized he was that much closer to obtaining the assistant he needed. 

Her uncle was going to push her into it and he’d never even have to broach his job offer. 

Pym sighed and finally turned to address his ward, his hands catching a hold of hers so he could lead her towards one of the delicate French Colonial settees. “I do not know exactly what your father placed within that watch; I was never much of an archeologist or an Egyptologist, but I know enough of what the ancients of this land dabbled in long ago. Your father, and your mother as well, were the highest authorities of Ancient Egyptian lore and there were rumors within our circle of friends that they were the guardians of something both magical and terrible hidden deep within the desert.” 

Stark’s ears pricked at that and he straightened from his slouch in the windowsill. Was this it then? Did this girl hold the key to his miracle? 

“Guardians of what?” Virginia asked, her eyes wide. “A tomb? A sarcophagus? Ancient literature hidden away? Treasure? What?! What was so important that it could force my parents to abandon their daughter in the middle of the night without a single message purveying to their whereabouts? What could call them away?” 

Stark and Pym flinched at the agony in her voice but before her guardian could respond, Janet spoke from the doorway, her quiet voice serving to calm all parties involved. “Your parents loved you Virginia, but they were not in Cairo simply to provide mummies and artifacts for the Museum. Craticus and Harmonia Potts always had a higher calling, something they were oath sworn to serve and to protect. You were too young to understand. The night they vanished, they were summoned, summoned to fulfill their oaths. It was something all of us knew would happen. But Virginia, it was not something they did lightly. They knew the pain it would cause you.” 

Virginia’s eyes were locked on Janet who wore her white evening jacket and the wide-brimmed hat and veil most ladies of Cairo wore to combat the dust and dirt inevitably blowing through the streets. She set a tray of tea and sandwiches down on the piano and began to pour steaming chamomile into the dainty china cups scattered about the silver. 

“What oath? Who summoned them?” she asked as Janet handed her a cup and a plate bearing her favorite cucumber and goat cheese sandwiches. 

Janet did not answer right off; instead glancing at Stark, she smiled and murmured, “I assume you are not here in Egypt for a pleasure jaunt Dr. Stark?” 

He hesitated as she placed a cup and saucer in his hands and then shook his head, “No Dr. van Dyne-Pym. I would never go to Egypt for a pleasure jaunt. I have a summer home in Shangri-La.” A small smile flashed across his lips and Janet chuckled. 

“Of course. My point exactly. You are here for a reason. And please call me Janet,” she said as she patted his hand and made her way to her husband who was attacking the tea service with ravenous fervor. 

Virginia frowned as she turned towards Stark. “What does your arrival have to do with the disappearance of my parents, Dr. Stark? I confess I am very confused.” 

Her hands were white as she gripped the china cup firmly and Stark winced at the thought of such elegant Blue Dutch shattering in her grasp. He considered, very briefly, lying about his business here in the old kingdom but seeing her dark curiosity and knowing that he ultimately needed her on his side, decided to go with the truth. 

“I’ve found something,” he said carefully as he turned to gaze out of the windows of the Pym’s parlor. “Something I’ve been searching for, for most of my life.” 

Behind him, Janet and Henry exchanged knowing looks and Virginia shivered at the excitement in his voice. 

“The Pyramid,” Janet said with a nod. “You’ve found it then.” 

Stark nodded and Henry chuckled. “Well, well,” he murmured. “The guardians either slipped up or they have a plan up their sleeves. This is most intriguing.” 

Virginia glanced from one to the other, her brow furrowed and then she blurted, her voice tight with frustration, “Pyramid?! Whatever are you talking about?!” 

Stark chuckled and made his way towards her. “The step pyramid,” he said as he settled on his heels before her. “The step pyramid fifty kilometers west of Saqqara. There’s something there I mean to reclaim. And if I’m not mistaken, your father gave you the key to opening its vaults.” 

Virginia stared at him, her eyes wide and incredulous. “But there isn’t a pyramid near Saqqara! I’ve been there…” her voice trailed away at the certainty on her guardian’s and their visitor’s faces. She shuddered as Stark’s hand settled on her knee; she tried to ignore the man’s close proximity to her person, but he was rather intoxicating. His musky scent mixed oddly with an unusual smell of warm metal that she found quite appealing. Was that just the smell of an inventor who worked mainly with brass? Or was that something special about his man? She gasped as she found herself leaning towards him, her nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed as she inhaled his unusual scent but before she could do something terribly silly, she rose to confront the man. 

Stark, thrown off by her sudden movement, sprawled backwards onto the plush carpet of the Pym’s parlor and gaped as she towered over him, her hands firmly planted on her hips. “You’re a treasure hunter! I might have known! Everyone knows how much you loathe sand, so why else would you be here in Egypt?! Have you run through your inheritance then? Are you bankrupt? That seems to be the only reason why the young aristocrats of the West come here anymore! Simply to desecrate a long dead king’s tomb in hopes that a bit of black gold will save them from debtor’s prison. What a laugh. And here I thought you would be able to aid me in discovering the meaning behind my father’s last message!” 

Stark and the Pym’s were silent through her tirade, all of their mouths agape at the young woman’s fury but as she made her way towards the door, Stark’s hand shot out and locked upon her ankle. Virginia gasped in horror and bent to smack his hand away; he simply caught a hold of her wrist, holding her in the most awkward position possible. 

“Miss Potts! You’ve hardly given me the chance to explain what I am looking for!” he said defensively as he rolled onto his side, only barely managing to keep a hold of her delicate joints. She snorted and sought to shake him off, to no avail. “I am not looking for treasure! I’m looking for a metal, a metal I believe will provide the power needed to run my inventions! Something that will free me from the hindrance and pollution of coal! I believe you and I are on the same path to that metal. And if my map is correct, which I know it is, my metal is in Saqqara. Which is why I need you Miss Potts.” 

“Me?” she asked, her eyes wide and her nose only a few inches from his own. His hot scent was washing over her once more, making her head spin and her knees shake. Although, that may be due to the upside tilt of her head and unbalanced stance she was twisted in due to his tight grip around her leather clad ankle. “I really don’t know of what you’re speaking, Dr. Stark.” 

Janet cleared her throat daintily, causing both young persons to jump and turn awkwardly in her direction. “Actually, you do Virginia.” She held out her hand and Virginia’s eyes narrowed at the sight of her father’s watch nestled in her guardian’s palm. “Djoser’s kingdom? A treasure from the stars? The metal he went to Persia for because the priest’s believed it was Ra’s power incarnate? You know as well as any in that Museum, of the 19th king’s tomb. You were raised on those tales,” she murmured, her eyes sparkling as the young woman stared at her from under her arm. 

“But that-that’s just a legend! An old-wives tale! No one’s ever found it! Everyone thought Djoser melted down that metal for the temples. There was never supposed to be any left! It was just a story to keep the Persians out of Saqqara!” Virginia exclaimed as her aunt helped her uncle into his coat and scarf. “Aunt Janet! What aren’t you telling me?” She struggled to pull free of Stark’s grasp but he did not relinquish his hold. 

Henry smiled cheekily at his ward as his wife pushed him indelicately towards the door. “No one’s ever found it because the key’s never been revealed. Now, it seems, you have the key. And Dr. Stark, the map to the pyramid. You two seem to be destined to find Djoser’s treasure of the stars! Craticus and Howard were really far too clever my dears. Which means, Pepper, you two are partners! How amusing that must be, for your fathers.” His deep chuckle rumbled through the room and Virginia watched as he snatched up his helmet from the window seat he’d set it in before hurrying after Janet. 

His words seemed to vibrate around the room and as she turned towards Dr. Stark, who still gripped her around her ankle and wrist, she gasped, “Partners?” 

Stark’s eyes were wide and he realized this entire situation had quite run away with him. “Now, Miss Potts, I don’t need a partner. I need an assistant!” he exclaimed as she started to smile slowly. 

“But you also need the key to Djoser’s tomb and since you seem to believe you’ve found a non-existent treasure that any historian knows can’t be real and I seem to be the bearer of that key, you’ll most likely need someone versed in ancient Egyptian lore to understand what you’ve found. So, Dr. Stark, I believe you’re in need of a highly specialized assistant.” Virginia’s eyes sparkled mischievously at this recent turn of events and as Stark released her before sitting up, she chuckled. 

“You could simply agree to hand over the key or at most explain those images from the spectroscope to me if you don’t wish to accompany me in the station as my secretary,” he grumbled as she twisted her wrist free of his grasp.

“Dr. Stark,” she said cheerfully as he rested against the settee and busied himself with straightening his ascot with its rather large sapphire headed stick pin. “I may agree to assist you. But I believe I must think on all that I have learned this night. Before I decide whether or not I shall accompany you, I must think on my options. And maybe visit the Museum’s library.” 

Stark sighed and rested his head on the cushion behind his head. “I might have known,” he grumbled as she stood. “Would it sweeten the deal if I told you I would pay you a very nice salary for your assistance?” 

Her soft chuckle made his skin prickle and his eyes widened as she leaned over him to whisper in his ear, “Perhaps. You may show yourself out Dr. Stark.” 

His wry chuckle followed her from the parlor and as her skirts rustled through the door he called, “You’ll find me at the Orange House! We leave at dawn in two days! I hope to see you soon Miss Potts! But I still won’t need a partner! Just an assistant!” 

She stopped and poked her head around the door. “We’ll see Dr. Stark,” she said with a tiny smirk on her lips. Her eyelid lowered in a slow wink and she murmured as she finally left the parlor, “You’ll hear from me soon. Mind the Ultrons when you make your way through the gardens. Uncle Henry really has made them too keen on their task.”

He shook his head as the door snapped closed behind her and he couldn’t help the appreciative gleam from appearing in his eye at the memory of her walking away from him. 

Dr. Anthony Stark had never been able to resist a flounced skirt.


	4. Stark's Team

When dawn was just starting to break over the still-sleeping city, Virginia rolled out of her bed with a sigh and brushed the gauzy mosquito netting drifting from the posts aside so she could stand. She hadn’t slept a wink and still her mind was spinning as she considered Stark’s proposition and her father’s hidden message within the spectroscope. Gazing at herself in the wrought iron framed mirror of her vanity, she considered her options.

To go search for Djoser’s step pyramid with Dr. Stark and his team of treasure hunters? Or to stay home and avoid the odious man and all his endeavors?

Would either option help her discover what had truly happened to her parents?

A glint of gold caught her eye and she gazed thoughtfully at her father’s watch, lit in stark relief by the bright lamp upon her bedside table.

“What do I do papa?” she whispered as her fingers stroked the engraved cover of the watch. “What would you do?”

She knew what Craticus Potts would have done. She knew that with her whole being; the Potts’ had abandoned her for just this reason, hadn’t they? They’d gone once more to the deserts in hopes of finding or guarding something that was ancient beyond belief. It had never not been their whole purpose in life.

Craticus and Harmonia would have asked her to go. They would have wanted her to abandon her staid, organized life in Cairo to go adventuring with the mad inventor from America. They would have pushed her out of the door.

Much like Janet and Henry would do if she hesitated for much longer.

“Well,” she said with a small smile on her lips. “If I’m going exploring, I’d better find out what I’m searching for. Because I don’t believe for a moment that Djoser owned a metal of otherworldly powers. I’m sorry papa, but that’s just impossible.”

Firming her jaw and her resolutions, she made her way to her wardrobe and selected an outfit for her day in the library. She was not going to jump into this headlong. Virginia Potts was not a spontaneous being; she was careful, stoic and above all organized. She was going to go about this the right way, with thorough research and as much preparation as humanly possible.

If there was one thing her guardian’s had taught her, it was best to be prepared for every situation which may arise.

And when one was going into the deserts of the old kingdom in hopes of finding a long forgotten tomb, sometimes it was best to have a few tricks up one’s sleeves.

After all, the pharaoh’s were well known for their own tricks and booby traps.

With a fierce little smile on her lips she activated her maid, who rested quietly upon the floor of her wardrobe, and as the clever bit of brass and iron mech her guardian Uncle Henry had designed specifically for her scurried about on wheeled feet helping her dress, she murmured with a bewildered shake of her head, “Off to the sands of ancient kings to find the treasures of the stars.”

The maid, called Butterfingers by her creator due to her propensity for dropping things when flustered, blinked her clockwork eyes and said with an oiled sigh, “Quite, Miss Potts. I shall pack you some sandwiches.”

Virginia chuckled as the maid handed her the satchel and light duster she wore in the Museum’s library. “Thank you Butter,” she murmured. “You do know how I love your sandwiches.”

And with a gentle kiss on the dainty mech’s head, she left her room and rushed down the stairs, only pausing in the doorway of the library to tell her just woken guardian that she was off to the library to do some research.

Henry Pym glanced up, his eyes absurdly magnified by the helmet he wore and said with a chuckle, “Preparing for an adventure Peppy?”

She hesitated and then nodded, an excited smile flashing across her lips as she wrapped her veil around her hat and hair in preparation for the sands of Ciaro. “Possibly Uncle Henry. I just want to know what I’m looking for. And I need to study the images the spectroscope showed me. I’m sure the library will have the information I need. I’ll be back for luncheon!” She kissed his cheek, tweaked an antennae and then rushed from the room, grabbing her goggles from the front table as she went.

“Of course my dear,” said Pym, a knowing smile twitching his mustache as he watched his ward snap her goggles over her eyes and head towards the front doors. He knew she wouldn’t be back for luncheon. “We’ll see you at tea.”

She was a Potts after all, and if there was one thing no Potts could resist, it was the pre-adventure research done within a library.

As the downstairs hall echoed with the sound of the front door slamming, his lovely wife appeared in the doorway, her hair still tousled and her light silk dressing gown drifting around her slim form. “What was that Hank?” she murmured sleepily as she padded into the room to watch her husband fiddle with his infernal device. “Who was visiting at this hour?”

Henry chortled as his vision refracted due to the red lenses of his helmet and as he bent his head towards the heavy wood of his desk he murmured, “That was just Peppy, my dear. She’s off the library.”

“The library?!” Janet gasped as she sagged into the chair in front of his desk. “At this ungodly hour? Whatever for?”

Henry snorted and slid the helmet off of his head. “Why, because she’s going to go exploring with Howard’s boy, Jan darling!”

Janet stilled, a small frown wrinkling her brow and she asked as he rose to leave the room, “She made her decision already then? That was awfully fast! How do you know?”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as Henry chuckled but when he turned to her and said, “She may think she’s getting her ducks in line, my pet, but in her hearts-of-hearts Virginia knows where she is going to be at dawn tomorrow. She’s Craticus and Harmonia’s daughter after all. The sands of Egypt are in her blood, even if she insists she’s not made for adventuring. She’s going to be at Stark’s side and she’s going to find the pyramid her parents were sworn to protect. You’ll see Jan, dear,” Janet van Dyne-Pym knew her husband was right.

“Well,” she said with a sigh as she rose. “We’d better get her packed and ready to go then. I’ll see if Butters can find her mother’s old chest. I’m sure Harmonia left a few things behind that Virginia will find useful in this little quest of hers.”

Henry gathered her in his arms and he smiled tenderly as she sniffed suddenly. “Ah, darling,” he murmured, planting a kiss on her cheek. “We always knew this day would come. Craticus’ message wouldn’t stay hidden forever and when the spectroscope finally revealed its last secret we knew it would only be a matter of time before she followed in her parent’s footsteps. Don’t fret.”

“I know,” she whispered. “It’s going to be so melancholy without Virginia, though Hank. Who will help me when the Ultron’s decide to tree my cat? And who’s going to help you with that infernal helmet you’re designing? You know how Benjamin is when you ask him for help.” She sighed as he led her from the room. “Maybe we should go with her? Take a vacation from Cairo?”

Henry stopped her and gathered her hands into his own, his face solemn as he said, “No dear. This is Virginia’s journey. She has to make it on her own.”

“You’re right. Of course you’re right,” Janet murmured. And then she chuckled and nudged her husband in the ribs, “Did you see the way Dr. Stark looked at her last night? Maybe it’s a good thing Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes are providing the security detail for Stark’s team.”

Henry froze as the implications of his wife’s words struck him and he gasped, “You don’t think Stark will try anything with her do you Jan?”

She only giggled and patted his arm. “Oh no dear. His fiancée and cousin are with him after all. And according to Reed, if he wishes to continue the engagement with Lady Fujikawa, then he must not stray. So there’s nothing to worry about. Virginia will be safe as houses. Especially with Rogers and Barnes guarding her every step.” She made her way to the parlor and breakfast and glanced behind her to see her husband still glaring into the middle distance. “Come along dear. Everything will be fine. Come have some breakfast.”

“Remind me to have a discussion with the Captain and the Sergeant, my dear,” Henry murmured thunderously as he followed his wisp of a wife into the parlor. “Maybe we should forbid her to go.”

Janet van Dyne-Pym only laughed and kissed her husband’s cheek, “You are such a colossal teddy bear my love. You’ll do no such thing.”

“You’re right,” he grumbled into his tea cup. “Stark and Potts. You know, sometimes I do wonder if Craticus isn’t pulling some strings for his daughter from beyond the grave. What are the chances that Howard’s boy and Craticus’s daughter should meet and join up for a dig?”

Janet only sipped her tea and opened a letter from the Lady Richard’s. “I’d say very good my dear,” she murmured absently as she perused the letter Susan had written after the gala the Pym’s had attended the night before. “They were betrothed after all, once upon a time, before Craticus and Harmonia disappeared. Howard was heartbroken when Maria called it off and took her son back to the Colonies. I dare-say that is why he never returned to Cairo and never told Anthony of Virginia.” She snorted delicately and folded the letter away before continuing, “If you ask me, if there was ever a pair destined for each other, it’s Anthony Stark and Virginia Potts. No matter what the Orientals may believe.”

Then she rose, her cup of tea in hand and Susan Richards’ letter in her dressing gown’s pocket and she left the room to find Butters and the Ultrons. They needed to get Virginia ready for her journey through the desert.

Henry Pym watched his wife leave the room and then shook his head before muttering to himself, “Stark and Potts. Oh Craticus, you fox. You planned this from the very beginning, didn’t you?”

Then, he too rose and prepared to go to the Citadel to find Captain Steve Rogers and Sergeant Buchanan. His wife may believe Stark was trustworthy, but Henry Pym was a scientist and a man, and if there was one thing he understood it was that when one was lost in the desert with a beautiful young girl at one’s side, one’s morals could easily be corrupted. He wanted to make sure his ward would be as safe as possible.

And SHIELD’s best soldiers would provide him with that peace of mind.

An hour later he was practically grinning as he left the Citadel and climbed aboard his steam powered carriage.

While SHIELD’s best soldiers would provide him with the peace of mind he would need when sending his young ward off in search of legends, SHIELD’s best guide and most cantankerous soldier, James Logan, would provide her with an added level of security.

No one would ever go up against the Wolverine.

Not even Dr. Anthony Stark.

* * *

The streets of Cairo were dark when Captain Steve Rogers found Virginia Potts in the library. The poor girl had collapsed face first upon several tomes she had found pertaining to Djoser and his reign during the 3rd Dynasty, sometime around tea time. She hadn’t meant to stay past luncheon but she had been making such progress in her research she simply had had to stay.

Admittedly, she could have done with some very strong Earl Grey right around four but the cantankerous head librarian had left and Virginia hadn’t wanted to leave her station lest she become distracted.

Thus her falling asleep upon several books and her personal journal; the book was nearly filled with notes and sketches pertaining to Djoser and her father’s keys, some of which she hoped would aid her if she did decide to partner up with Dr. Stark.

Steve Rogers gazed thoughtfully at the young woman snoring lightly upon the scarred table of the library’s reading room before sighing and tapping her firmly on the shoulder.

“Miss Potts? Can you hear me, ma’am?” he called softly to the young librarian. She didn’t stir right off, so he tapped her shoulder once more, this time saying rather loudly, “There’s lemon cake in the parlor Virginia! Better come before Barnes eats it all!”

She snapped awake then, sitting up so violently she nearly slid from her chair and she gasped as she gazed wildly around, “Lemon cake?! Where?!” Rogers’ soft chuckle made her scowl and she grumbled as he swept off his military cap and unbuttoned his dark blue greatcoat before pulling out a chair and sitting down beside her, “That was unfair Captain. You do know how I love lemon cake.”

“Don’t I though?” he said with a small smile. He glanced around the library and then turned his gaze to the papers and books scattered haphazardly around her. He lifted a map off of the table and ran his fingers over the rough parchment for a second before saying, “So what Dr. Stark says is true. You’re joining up with his team of explorers on this trek through the desert.”

Virginia hesitated, her fingers fiddling with the leather strap of her journal, and considered once more her options. When the Captain’s eyes rose to meet hers she finally sighed and nodded. “I think I must Captain. Stark thinks he’s found something outside of Saqqara and if what I’ve read about this particular pyramid is true, then he’s going to need a very skilled Egyptologist in his ranks.”

“Ah,” the Captain murmured as he rummaged in her papers for a blank piece of scrap and a stubby pencil. “And you think you’re the one he needs?” His blue eyes were thoughtful as he glanced upwards and she nodded.

“You know I am. There’s no one in this Museum who knows more about the ancients than I do. Even the Curator has come to me with questions! And…” she hesitated, unsure if she should tell the man the rest of her story. His eyebrow rose at her hesitation and she sighed. “Very well. I believe my parents went to Saqqara when they disappeared.”

His head snapped up at that and he frowned. “Your parents?! What do they have to do with Stark? I thought they got lost during a dig!”

She shrugged one shoulder and began straightening her table. “It seems Dr. Anthony Stark and my parents had more in common than any of us could have known,” she said as the Captain resumed his idle sketching. “He’s off to Saqqara to find a mysterious tomb that really shouldn’t exist but that my parents seem to have known about. I haven’t found much about the tomb, other than some shady ramblings about a secret organization of guardians set to protect a treasure of the conqueror and alchemist Djoser. It’s really all a bunch of silly fairytales but if Stark is going after one of Djoser’s treasure tombs then there are bound to be traps set for the likes of Stark and his team.”

Rogers snorted and nodded, before saying, his voice wry with dark humor, “I still remember the first summer I was stationed here and Coulson took me to one of the Great Pyramids; and what was the first thing I do? Set off a booby trap. I was trapped under that rubble for what felt like seventy years. I’ve never been able to shake that feeling of being buried alive.” He sighed. “It’s probably a good idea, you’re going with Stark, Virginia. If what I’ve heard about the early kings of the old kingdom, they were tricky bastards. That tomb Stark has his sights set on will be rigged from top to bottom. It’d be a miracle if his whole team got out alive.” He paused, his eyes thoughtful as he watched her gather up some books for re-shelving. “I’m assuming you have the key then?”

The sound of the four monstrous books falling to the floor was like the report of a shotgun going off in the cavernous space and she gasped, “The key?! What do you know of a key, Captain Rogers?”

He smiled knowingly and bent to gather the fallen manuscripts. “Easy,” he said as he straightened, placing a few more of her books upon the pile in his arms. “I’m on Stark’s team too. Barnes, Logan and I are his security detail. Fury briefed us. Apparently, someone on the team has a key to the pyramid. And since Stark asked for you specifically, I just assumed it was you who held the key. Don’t worry Miss Potts, your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell anyone.” His blue eyes sparkled in the lamplight of the room and he hefted the pile of ten or so books before leaving the room.

Virginia’s eyes were wide as she watched the American Captain make his way to the librarian’s center desk and her hand shook as it rose to rest at the base of her throat.

Then she frowned and followed him as he moved about the library turning down the lamps. “Captain?” she snapped as she caught a hold of his arm. “What do you mean, about you and the Sergeant and the Lieutenant coming on this journey? Why is SHIELD getting involved? What does the American military have to do with an eccentric businessman’s hair brained archaeological adventures?”

Rogers’ hesitated and then sighed. “I suppose you don’t know,” he muttered as he ran his fingers through his neatly waved blonde hair. “Well, for one thing, Stark is the golden boy of the U.S.; before his capture by militants in Afghanistan he was the leading manufacturer of weapons, most of which he sold to the U.S. military. Now, as you know, he devotes himself to inventing. That alone means he’s a person of high importance. But,” he paused, his eyes narrowing as he noticed her curiosity. She gestured for him to continue and he did, with another sigh. “But Stark is the next runner-up for the Director’s position in SHIELD; which means Colonel Fury has a vested interest in his safety as he tours Egypt.”

Virginia collapsed into the chair in front of the head librarian’s desk and dropped her head into her hands. “Oh God,” she groaned. “What have I gotten myself into?”

Rogers chuckled as he knelt in front of her and pulled her hands from her face. “But you haven’t agreed to come along yet, have you? Stark just assumes you are because he’s spoiled and used to getting his way. You can always back out, Virginia!”

She sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry Captain. But I’m really afraid I can’t now,” she murmured. She patted his hands and rose, making her way to her abandoned belongings.

Rogers hurried after her and watched as she shoved her journal, notes and maps into the satchel she carried on a regular basis and asked, “But why, Virginia?! You don’t owe him anything! There’s no one ordering you to go! Why do you have to do this?”

She chuckled as she turned in his direction. Patting his cheek with her gloved hand she said with a smile, “Why, Captain Rogers? Because if you, Barnes and Logan are involved, Dr. Stark and his team will never make it to Saqqara. Somehow, you three boys will get them to Casablanca and then we’ll all be truly in trouble. So, you see, I must come, if only to keep all of you troublemakers organized.”

Rogers hurried after her as she left the library and he asked breathlessly as he caught up with her, “So what are you going to do tonight? You have to tell Dr. Stark you’re going!”

She halted just inside of the wide, arched doors of the museum and sighed as she gazed upon the moonlit city before her. “Well,” she said slowly as she wrapped her scarf around her hat and snapped her goggles in place. “He did tell me where he was staying. I suppose I go there first.”

Rogers nodded, held his arm out for her to take and asked as they made their way down the wide marble steps of the Museum, “And where is Dr. Stark staying?”

She chuckled and tightened her grip on his arm. “I do believe he said the Orange House, Captain,” she murmured as he led her down the twisted street towards the main thoroughfare running through the middle of Cairo.

He sighed, straightened his military cap absentmindedly and turned her in the direction of the Citadel. “Right,” he grumbled. “Better get the boys then if I’m going to be escorting a young lady of repute to a seedy hotel. Didn’t anyone tell him he was kipping down with Madam Sevora?”

She snorted as she lifted the light blue cotton skirts of the dress she wore out of the muck covering the streets they walked on and said, “If I know anything of how Dr. Stark works, it wouldn’t surprise me if he knew exactly of where he was stationing his team.”

“True,” muttered the Captain as they arrived at the wide gates of the Citadel. “Bucky’s going to be beside himself about this.” She only chuckled as he summoned Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes and Lieutenant James Logan, the last of whom they were told was on twenty-four hour suspension due to fighting. Rogers only shook his head at that before giving his orders to his Sergeant.

Twenty minutes later Virginia Potts arrived at the Orange House with a much put-upon Captain and a darkly excited Sergeant at her side, and watched with wide eyes as an only slightly tipsy Dr. Anthony Stark took part in fisticuffs with one Lieutenant James Logan.

Despite her previous assurance that she had indeed chosen the right path, watching Dr. Stark being knocked about by the angry Canadian Lieutenant did make her wonder if she hadn’t lost her mind.

It didn’t help when Stark landed at her feet and said with a cheeky grin, despite the blood trickling from his nose and the dishabille appearance of his clothing, “Well hello Miss Potts! Told you I’d see you again. Welcome to the team!” His bruised hand patted her foot and she gasped and rushed from the room.

The door slammed on her way out from the inn and the only sound on the streets of Cairo were the soft clatter of her boot’s heels as she made her way to the public gardens near the Orange House’s location.

Inside of said establishment, Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes were helping Dr. Stark up and he said with a chuckle as he dusted the sand off of his plaid trousers and buttoned his shirt, “She’ll be back. I’ve made her an offer she can’t refuse.”

“Oh?” Captain Rogers said, his voice tight with irritation and worry. “And what was that Dr. Stark?”

Stark smiled, clapped both men on the shoulder and turned back to Lieutenant Logan who was smoking his cigar rather calmly and adjusting the clever gauntlets bracing his forearms. The quiet snick of the hydraulic blades hidden by the leather and steel of the gauntlets was almost lost in the low rumble of the public hall. “Adventure, gentlemen,” Stark said with a chuckle. “I offered Miss Potts an adventure.”

So saying, he made his way to the bar and ordered a round of drinks for his recently arrived security detail before making his way back to the private room he had rented for his two nights in Cairo. After a moment of hesitation, Rogers told Barnes and Logan to stay with Stark. He would go find Miss Potts. The door snapped sharply with his departure and with that Barnes made his way after Stark towards the back of the public hall.

Logan simply smoked his cigar and waited to see if anyone else would want to try his hand against the infamous Wolverine. No one came forward, much to his continued irritation.

The veiled and cloaked woman sitting in the corner of the public hall went unnoticed; she’d been watching Stark for nearly three hours but none had watched her. Green eyes glinted dangerously as she twitched her black and scarlet robes more tightly around her person and removed a clever clockwork device from her pockets.

No matter what transpired tonight, she did not wish to be discovered.

Least of all by the dark haired soldier with the metal arm. After all, he’d take one look at this woman of his dark past and kill her on sight.

Her employer wouldn’t want that.

As eight o’clock drew nearer, the shadowy woman’s finger rested upon the device her master had given her and with a soft chuckle, she pressed her thumb on the red glass button.

“And the hammer falls,” she whispered as a soft beep issued from the device.

None noticed as she rose and left the Orange House; the only sign that she had even been there, a clockwork mouse sitting on an empty bench in the corner, with a red button glowing from its back.


	5. A Challenger Emerges

 The streets of Cairo were quiet as two men made their way towards the brightly glowing Orange House. One of them, an older gentleman of aristocratic air, led the way, a small mouse, similar to the one glowing brightly within the confines of the public hall of the inn, was clasped tightly in his hand. As they neared the domicile, the red light began to pulse quickly and a soft beep could be heard from within the brass clockwork.

The aristocrat grinned ominously and glanced into the shadows of the alley beside the inn. “Well done, Natasha, my device worked.  It brought us right to Stark's location,” he said, as his veiled assistant came forward. She didn’t say anything, only bowed her head. “You are certain that he is within?” She nodded once more and he chuckled. “Wonderful. Join Mr. Wilson then my dear , we don’t know how this evening will turn out.”

The veiled woman, a Russian assassin named Natasha Romanoff to those who knew her and the Black Widow to those who wished they didn't, glanced at her employer with a slightly disgusted look on her face, which he did not see before making her way to the grinning mercenary dressed in a very ostentatious red and black suit. She sniffed delicately as she settled beside him and subtly charged the clever bracelets girding her wrists. She did not like the idiotic mercenary her employer had hired on a whim.

Especially when he spoke. “So, lady, can I getcha a drink? I always did like the veils you dames wear in this part of the world. Super mysterious.”  His hand, encased in a red leather glove stretched out to catch a hold of hers but she shook him off with a hiss.  

"Remember what happened the last time you touched me, Wade," she said, her voice cold and dead.  "My bracelets were only charged to half their capacity that night."  

Wade Wilson, one of the deadliest mercenaries from the West, and known as Deadpool to his employers, watched her follow their boss as he approached the front door of the inn Stark had set up in and chuckled and winked as he sidled up to her, "You know, they tried to do that electroshock therapy stuff with me in the nuthouse.  But it didn't work.  I liked it too much."  

"Wade!" snapped their employer.  "Silence that tongue!  Or I'll take it out myself!"  

"Duly noted," said the mercenary with a smirk.  He glanced at the veiled assassin at his side and bent closer to her so he could ask, his voice only a step above a stage whisper, "They don't call you the Black Widow for nothing then, do they?" 

Her sigh was the only answer he got but he did leave her alone, especially when his shadowed eyes caught sight of the twisted bracelets at her wrist begin to crackle with white-hot energy.  "I'll just stay back here, then, and keep the locals entertained," he murmured as he dropped behind both boss and coworker.  

She continued to ignore the Merc but kept close to their employer's back, all of her senses on high alert as she kept an eye out for danger. She knew who was in the bar that night and she knew how poorly things would go if Stark and his team got riled up.

Even if her boss insisted Stark wouldn’t have the gumption to do anything sinister.

As the door of the inn closed behind them, neither noticed the tall American Captain with the red-headed girl on his arm emerge from the public gardens and begin to make their way back towards the inn.

“Well, well, Anthony,” called the veiled assassin’s employer, his voice pitched just loud enough to carry over the low rumble of the bar patron’s. “Are you having a wonderful night before your leave taking? Care if I join you, old man?” He chuckled as the bar fell silent; the only sounds within the place was the quiet snick of hydraulic blades sliding free of their gauntlets, the whir of gears as the dark haired Sergeant flexed his clockwork arm and the gasps of the two lovely ladies sitting at a canasta table in the far corner.

Stark rose, his arms spread slightly as he held his men back; his dark blue eyes were icy in the bright lamplight of the bar and he ground out through clenched jaws, “Hammer. What are you doing here?”

Lord Justin Hammer, one of the West’s leading weapon’s manufacturers and consequently one of Anthony Stark’s biggest rivals, chuckled softly and said, “Why, I’ve decided it is high time I came to the old kingdom to try my hand at archaeology. Whatever are you doing here in Egypt? I always thought sand didn’t agree with you any longer? Gave you heart…arrest.”

As the man sneered at that last, Stark could swear the clockwork buried in the musculature of his chest froze. A small smirk twitched across his lips and he choked out a little laugh as his hand rose in a panic to his ascot; he sighed when his fingers vibrated reassuringly with the slow spin of the gears hidden by the blue silk.

“Heh, right Hammer,” he said, false joviality in his voice. “I’ll believe that when I see it. I always thought you hated getting your hands dirty. Although I suppose the desecration of long forgotten tombs is right up your alley. You always did enjoy stealing from the dead.”

Justin Hammer smirked and then started to laugh, a great ratcheting bark that grated on everyone’s taut nerves. His two bodyguards glanced at him, their eyes wide and disturbed as he tossed his greying head back. His top hat, the height of London fashion, slipped back on his brow but he didn’t straighten it. He simply laughed.

“Oh Anthony,” he said breathlessly when his mirth had run its course. “You are too funny. You act all high and mighty, as if you are above corruption and yet, why are you here? Come now, my boy. We all know you’re here to desecrate some tombs as well. After all, the treasure of the stars can’t be passed up, now can it?”

The bar was quiet, all of the patrons enraptured with this tense standoff. Stark’s and Hammer’s teams stood with their hands on their respective weapons as they waited to see what their employers would do.

Dr. Bruce Banner, his figure trembling slightly as he fought for control against his other half, glanced around the bar and wondered briefly where his friend’s bodyguard was. Barton had vanished some hours before and hadn’t returned. His eyes turned back to Hammer’s team and his eyes flashed an ominous green from behind his purple tinted glasses at the sight of the black veiled woman standing just behind Hammer.

He knew who that was.

“Clint,” he muttered as his muscles bunched and tightened. “Where are you?” He could see the dancing energy at the woman’s wrists. He’d helped design that particular piece of weaponry. If only his friend Tesla knew to what purpose it was being used. A sneer twitched his lips and a feral growl rumbled through his chest as the woman’s head turned in his direction. He could almost feel her venomous gaze resting upon him.

Stark glanced over his shoulder at his friend and colleague and shook his head. “Easy, Banner,” he muttered as he turned back to Hammer’s team.

Hammer took a slow step forward, his ice blue eyes sparkling with wry humor as Stark’s team tensed, and he asked as he neared the younger man, “What do you think you’re doing Anthony? What do you think you can do? You’re out of your league, you little prick. This is my game and I’m going to win. You don’t stand a chance.”

“Hm, we’ll see,” Stark murmured, his hands sliding into his overcoat’s pockets. His fingers toyed with the bit of mech he’d been fiddling with off-and-on the past few years since his reemergence from the caves of Afghanistan. “What game are we playing again?” His lips twitched into a tight little smile and his eyes darted around the bar, noting Hammer’s bodyguards and the location of the trembling bar maid.

“Ah yes,” said Hammer with a giddy little laugh. “I have neglected my proposition! How foolish of me.” He beckoned to the barmaid who approached cautiously, her eyes widening as the tall man dressed in red and black, standing to the side of the lord, winked at her. Hammer continued after asking her to bring back pints of the house’s strongest black Indies ale, “Since it seems we are each off to find a certain priceless treasure, I think a friendly challenge between business rivals is in order. Don’t you think Anthony?” His eyebrows rose and he held a chair out for Stark whose steely gaze never left the older man’s face.

“A challenge then? What kind of challenge?” Stark asked, his voice only mildly curious as he watched the older man adjust his waistcoat. He couldn’t help being interested at this turn of events…

As Stark and Hammer settled slowly at a vacant table, their teams arrayed themselves around their respective employers and Dr. Banner sighed. This was not going to end well. His eyes darted around the bar once more, noting Sergeant Barnes’ stiff stance and solemn gaze, as well as Lieutenant Logan’s casual cleaning of the clever blades emerging from the gauntlets bracing his forearms.

Dr. Banner’s hand rose as he saw Margaret Carter, Stark’s young cousin, rise and he shook his head in warning as the girl took a step forward. Rumiko Fujikawa nodded slightly and wrapped her arms around the younger woman, whispering something in her ear. He sighed as Peggy subsided, a thunderous scowl on her face.

Clint Barton still hadn’t returned.

The barmaid set the two pints before each man, only sloshing a little bit upon the scarred table surface and Stark winked encouragingly as he passed over a few pennies in payment.

She pocketed them and hurried away as Hammer leaned towards his young rival, saying, “A toast? To your health, Anthony. May your ‘heart’ continue its inexorable ticking.”

Dr. Banner, Barnes and Logan tensed as the man clinked his mug of ale against their employer’s but Stark’s fingers twitched, subtly telling them to stand down.

“Your health, Hammer, may you continue to exist only so long as you must,” he muttered as he raised the pint to his lips. Both men stared at each other from around the rims of their mugs, their backs stiff as their throats worked and they lowered their mugs too soon to be considered polite.

But this pair could never be polite or civil with the other.

It was simply against their natures.

Hammer patted his lips delicately with a monogrammed handkerchief and watched as Stark swayed. His assassin had timed this perfectly. Stark may not appear so, but he was very drunk and this dark ale would push him ever closer to the edge.

Stark’s mug rose and he drank deeply of the beer, his parched throat working as the bitters rushed over his tongue. His quicksilver mind was working as he tried to figure out what Hammer was playing at; why the mysterious challenge? And how did the bastard even know of Saqqara and the tomb? How had he found him? How was he going to get out of this?

His eyes once more darted around the bar and they narrowed at the sight of sky blue muslin darting between two hefty Arabians in robes and turbans. He’d know that shade of blue anywhere. Had she returned then?

“So what was this challenge you wished to issue me?” he asked, his gaze once more returning to the older man before him. His lips twitched as Hammer considered him knowingly. Drunk he may be, but even at his worst he could outsmart Justin Hammer. That had always been the way.

Hammer leaned forwards, his gnarled fingers toying with the edge of his mug and he said, “You do enjoy racing, correct Anthony? Those motors you and Maya created are some of the fastest vehicles to take the streets of New York are they not?” His cold, dead eyes glittered dangerously and Bruce Banner sighed in resignation as Stark leaned forward, his eyes suddenly alight as he realized the game.

“That’s right, Hammer,” he said, a smirk on his lips. “I’ve beaten Justine twice now at the Prix. Do you fancy another beating here in the desert? I’ll have Maya send one of the motors over.”

Hammer raised a finger and tsked. “On the contrary, my boy. Don’t put yourself out, I simply wondered if you’d wish to race me to Saqqara. In your lighter-than-air ship. It’d be a race of greatness, wouldn’t it? I have a new ship, something Justine and I designed specifically for a jaunt in the desert and I do so want to put her through her paces. And I thought,” here he clapped his hands on the knees and laughed his ratchety laugh once more. “And I thought to myself upon my disembarking at Cairo, ‘Why Anthony’s Helvetica is here! I wonder if he would agree to help me try my own ship out!’” His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, a knowing smirk on his lips. “What do you say Stark?” he whispered. “Think you can beat me this time?”

Stark leaned forward, his nose flaring at the sour smell rolling off of the older man and he whispered back, “I’ll beat you every time, Hammer. You should just give up, old man.”

Hammer chuckled as his fingers stretched out to straighten his rival’s ascot; his fingers surreptitiously brushed against the brass mechanicals hidden by the soft linen of the younger man’s shirt and he murmured, “So cocky, Anthony. That misplaced confidence will get you into trouble one day.” He leaned back and folded his arms over his chest, his eyes sparking as he noted the discomfort in Stark’s eyes and he shrugged one shoulder. “So you refuse? Are you afraid my Lady Beatrice is too far advanced for your Helvetica, is that it?”

Stark, knowing Hammer was simply playing him, could not help feeling insulted about the questioning of his ship and stood, leaning over the table to snarl in his rival’s face, “My ship is the height of mechanical strength Hammer! She can take your ship and any other for that matter, with nary a stutter in her engine.” He grabbed his mug, downed the rest of its contents and smashed it back to the table’s surface, his eyes sparkling with excited challenge. “Very well Hammer!” he snarled as the wormy man’s eyebrows rose and his lips twitched in a secret smile. “I accept your challenge! We will see who will be first to arrive at Saqqara and I will bet my last quarter’s earnings that it will not be the Lady Beatrice!”

Hammer was silent for a moment, a small flash of uncertainty in his eyes but then he rose and stretched his hand out over the table. “Well Stark,” he said with a smirk. “I accept those terms! Shall we meet at dawn at the docks and disembark before the sun reaches its zenith?”

Stark nodded, a feral grin twisting his lips and he slapped his hand into Hammer’s saying, “Right! You will rue the da-“

He got no further; his words drying up in his mouth as a dainty, gloved hand settled on his and Hammer’s clasped fists and a quiet woman’s voice said over the sudden hub-bub filling the public hall, “Gentlemen, could we reconsider these terms of challenge for a moment?”

Hammer’s eyes widened as he turned to the slender red haired woman dressed in light blue muslin and snarled, “Who the devil are you, madam?”

She smiled sweetly, her light blue eyes twinkling in the lamplight and she darted a quick glance in the gaping Stark’s direction. “Why, I’m Dr. Stark’s partner, Lord Hammer. Miss Potts,” she murmured with a slight dip of her head. She smirked as Stark grumbled "Assistant," under his breath and held her hand out for Hammer to kiss as she said politely, “How do you do?”

“Very well,” Hammer murmured absently, his hand catching her own, a sour taste suddenly filling his mouth as he studied the young lady. He couldn’t help feeling that this recent arrival had thrown a literal wrench in the works. “What do you wish us to reconsider?”

Virginia Potts smiled, glanced around those assembled and said, “I believe your lighter-than-air ship is the very height of mechanical aptitude; that is correct sir?”

Stark frowned and started to protest; before he could, though, her foot stamped firmly upon his own and her fingers tightened in warning upon his wrist. Stark kept his silence, his eyes shadowed as he watched her carefully.

Behind her Captain Rogers smiled and glanced at Barnes and Logan who were watching this little interview with dark humor in their eyes. Logan drew heavily on his cigar and winked at the Captain, a smirk on his lips.

Hammer smiled and removed his hand from Stark’s so he could catch hold of the lovely Miss Potts’ and raise it to his lips. “You are correct, madam,” he murmured against her knuckles, his eyes missing the slight shudder that darted up her figure at his touch. “My ship is the best, despite what your employer says.”

His smarmy smile once more lifted his lips and Virginia own tight smile barely hid her distaste as she disentangled her hand from his own. “I thought so,” she murmured with a coquettish laugh.

Stark frowned and asked sharply, “What are you proposing, Miss Potts?” His eyes flashed in warning but she ignored him.

“Why, simply this! Is a race great if it is simply just between two men desiring to show off their mechanical prowess?” Her blue eyes danced as she gazed around the little crowd surrounding them. She chuckled and shook her head. “No, of course not! A race is great, only if there is a perceived disadvantage for one team! Think, gentlemen, of the tortoise and the hare! Of the Arctic explorers currently sailing towards the South Pole in hopes of winning their countries acclaim! What do they have in common?” She gazed at both men who shifted uncomfortably, their minds working through the alcohol and din, to try and figure out if she had perhaps insulted either of their ships.

She sighed when neither spoke up but before she could continue, the dark haired man with the tinted glasses standing directly behind Stark spoke up, saying, “You want one of these gentlemen to place himself at a disadvantage just to make this idiotic race more challenging for the other?” His voice was shocked, horrified even and she smiled at his distress.

“Hardly, sir,” she said with a laugh. “What I’m proposing is that Dr. Stark agree to race against Lord Hammer but that he do it the old fashioned way. On the backs of camels. That is hardly a disadvantage. After all, the pharaohs of old traveled thus.” There were horrified gasps from Stark’s company and she hid her smile. Such fools, these.

“You want us to travel across Egypt on the backs of flea-bitten camels?!” snapped a woman of Oriental descent standing beside a younger woman similar in looks to Stark. “That is ridiculous! Tony…”

Stark’s hand rose, stopping his fiancé’s protests and said slowly, “It would certainly be interesting.” He shrugged and grinned. “I’m game!” he said, his hand snapping out in front of him, waiting for Hammer’s to clasp.

Bruce Banner snorted and settled heavily in his chair, his head falling in his hands and Hammer frowned. “Why do you suggest this, my dear?” he asked the slender red head. “Surely you know I will hold the advantage?”

She smiled brightly then and leaned forward, “Will you, though, my lord?” she murmured. “We shall see, if you agree to these new terms. After all, how best to show off the prowess of your ship? If you beat Dr. Stark’s team you will show the world once-and-for-all that the new ways are truly the best and that the old fashioned ways of this ancient kingdom must surely be put to rest!”

Hammer hesitated, suddenly suspicious at this young woman’s exuberance but then the prospects of beating Stark once more struck him and he smiled. “Very well,” he said, his hand once more stretching out over the table to clasp Stark’s. “The first to arrive at the center square of Saqqara owes the other his last quarter’s earnings.”

Both men grinned fiercely and gripped each other’s fists. Stark’s white teeth flashed in the lamplight as he bent towards his rival. “I’ll save you some treasure, Hammer,” he snarled.

“No, it is I who will save you some gold,” Hammer hissed. “You’ll need it to raise your company out of debt.”

They glared at each other for a moment and then Miss Potts intervened. “Now boys, let’s play nice,” she murmured as she forced their hands apart. “After all this is the eve of a great venture. We can’t have you breaking each other’s hands. Now shouldn’t we all take ourselves to our beds? Come along!”

Hammer hesitated, his eyes glinting dangerously and then he laughed as he turned away. “You made a poor choice in an assistant Stark! She thinks she’s clever but I’ll see you in Saqqara and I’ll own Stark Enterprises once and for all! You’ll see!”

Stark glared at the man’s back as he made his way through the public house toward the front door. Hammer’s bodyguards, the woman in black robes and the tall man dressed in a tightly tailored red and black suit, followed their employer but before they left, the man said to Stark, mockery in his voice, “See you in the desert Annie! Don’t get sand in your eye!”

When the door closed behind Hammer’s departing team, all eyes turned to Stark and his calm assistant.

“You fool!” snapped Rumiko Fujikawa as she dragged Stark’s young cousin forward to confront the red haired girl. “You’ve doomed us! We cannot travel through the deserts on the backs of camels! What have you done?”

Virginia was stoic as she glanced around Stark’s team and she said quietly, “What have I done?” she turned back to the woman she suspected was Stark’s fiancée and smiled coldly. “What I have done, madam, is saved you all.”

Then she prowled from their midst and made her way to the front door. Stark watched her thoughtfully and as the door swung closed behind her he murmured, “Go up to bed Ru, you too Peggy. I’ll see what I can do about this. Banner, come with me; Captain, you and your men as well.”

He did not wait for them to agree, simply followed the young woman out onto the lemon scented streets of Cairo. As he stepped onto the cobbles he sighed and turned his gaze to the full moon hanging above the city. “Hell,” he muttered to himself as his fingers rose to toy with the mech spinning in his chest. “What’ve you done Stark?”

He received no answer. Now that Hammer was gone, the implications of what Stark had agreed to struck him full force and he shuddered. Had he really doomed them? Had Virginia Potts played him for a fool?

At the sound of the door opening behind him and his men stepping onto the street, he turned his gaze and caught sight of the edge of blue skirt darting through the gates of the public gardens. He shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled languidly after her. He smiled at the sound of Banner and the three soldiers following in his footsteps; no matter how stupid he may have been this night, he still had his team. Maybe he hadn’t completely destroyed their prospects then.

She was sitting at the fountain when he found her, her fingers trailing through the water pooling there and Stark froze in the gateway at the becoming sight she made. She didn’t turn at the sound of his entrance but she did stiffen as he said, “You’ve presented me with an interesting dilemma, Miss Potts. I’m still not sure how I feel about that.”

Her eyes shone like molten silver in the moonlight as she glanced at him and she sighed. “I did not speak out of turn,” she said stiffly. “If you had gone along with Lord Hammer’s challenge, you would have found yourself stranded in the middle of the Sahara, Dr. Stark. Ask the Captain, he can tell you of what befalls those who take modern mechanicals into the desert.”

Captain Rogers came forward as she turned back to the fountain and offered a quick salute to the doctor and his companion. “What Miss Potts says is true, Dr. Stark,” he said, his voice crisp.

Stark’s eyes narrowed as the Captain shifted and he glanced from the Sergeant who toyed with the joint of his mechanically powered arm, to the quietly smoking Lieutenant. He couldn’t help feeling cold terror wash over him at the implacable gaze in the so-called Wolverine’s eyes and he choked out, “Why? What happens when mech goes into the desert?”

He knew the answer. By God, he knew it, but he had to hear it from someone else. Had to hear someone describe his doom.

Logan barked out a short laugh and bent to scoop up a small handful of sand that had gathered in the cracks between the rust colored paving stones of the garden walkway. “What happens, Stark?” he asked as he let the sand fall through his fingers. “What happens is, one grain of sand gets in those gears, and your whole ship goes down. One grain of sand can mean the end of anything with clockwork.” His eyes were cold embers in the soft glow of his cigar and Stark shivered.

He could swear, in that moment, standing there in the gardens surrounded by those far smarter and wiser than he, that his heart stuttered and froze.

One grain of sand…

The end of anything with clockwork…

“Hell,” he whispered as his hand rose to scrabble hopelessly at the suddenly tight knot of his ascot. “What have I done?”

Doom had never sounded like the faint tick and whir of gears until now.


	6. The Tick of his Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers!
> 
> I'm just writing to apologize about the jiggery of this story. I realized after publishing chapters 4 and 5 last night, and after some help from my lovely beta Ambpersand, that there needed to be some MAJOR clarification in the story. So I've been doing some minor rewrites. I hope this hasn't turned anyone off. 
> 
> Sometimes I get stuck in my head and things don't translate. 
> 
> Please let me know if anything is too terribly awful!
> 
> Oh and it might help if you go back and reread the first part of Chapter 5. I changed it a bit. 
> 
> Bless
> 
> -M

Virginia’s eyes were wide as she watched Dr. Anthony Stark sway dangerously before her in the garden. Shooting a furious glare at Lieutenant James 'Wolverine' Logan, who only shrugged and drew deeply on his ever-present cigar, she rushed over to the pale doctor and tried to calm him.

“Dr. Stark, it really isn’t as bad as all that! There are precautions one can take to keep the sand from damaging any clockwork that may be exposed! Sergeant Barnes has a canvas sleeve for his arm and the Lieutenant has clever metal covers for his claws! It’s just…well, a ship of the Helvetica’s size wouldn’t last a day I’m afraid.” She hesitated as the man continued to stare past her and clutch at his chest. She swallowed heavily, glanced at Stark’s friend, a man she hadn’t been introduced to but whom she suspected was Dr. Bruce Banner, a world-famous alchemist and inventor. His eyes were shadowed behind his frames but as he rushed forward to support his friend, she could swear they glowed like green fire.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as Banner steadied Stark. “I only thought to help.”

Banner sighed, glanced at her and murmured, “It’s all right, Miss Potts. Dr. Stark has just had a little too much to drink. I’ll get him to bed. You should go home and get some rest as well because no matter how hungover Tony is in the morning we’ll still be departing at dawn. Thank you for your assistance.” He then hauled Stark’s arm over his shoulder, set his own arm around the man’s waist and began carrying him back towards the street. Sergeant Barnes rushed forward to aid him and together they left the gardens.

Virginia watched them go, her cheeks flaming at the gentle reprimand and she did not miss the tiny smirk Logan shot her before he faded into the shadows as well.

Captain Rogers sighed and pushed his hat back on his forehead. “Well, that was interesting,” he said with a soft laugh. “Good job Miss Potts.”

“What was that Captain?” she asked as he held his arm out for her to take. “Why was he panicking so badly?” She couldn’t stop thinking of the sheer panic on Dr. Stark’s face as the sand trickled from Logan’s fingers. She was astounded, flabbergasted, at the memory as the once cocky businessman disappeared and was replaced by a shell-shocked ghost of a man swaying before her in the moonlit garden. “What was that?”

Rogers glanced at the young woman on his arm and sighed. “I honestly don’t know Miss Potts,” he murmured as they made their way up the street towards her neighborhood. “All I know about the man is what I hear around the Citadel and read in the newspapers. I do know it’s highly unusual for him to be in a desert country though. Ever since his incarceration in the Afghans…” His voice trailed away and Virginia shivered as she recalled hearing stories of his capture by Afghani militants.

Stark had been sold out by his closest fried so the man could take over Stark Enterprises nearly five years prior; but Stark hadn’t died. Instead, he had emerged from the deserts as a harder yet more circumspect version of himself. Upon his return to the West he had ceased iron mongering and instead turned to inventing and ultimately the search for an energy source of cleaner power than coal. That had fueled the gossip mills in every high society tea circle for months. She still remembered her guardian’s excitement at the news.

“I do not think that was simply the reaction of a man who was kept against his will in a desert camp by guerillas, Captain,” she murmured as he helped her up the steep stairs leading to the Lemon District, where she resided.

Rogers sighed, irritated despite himself at her continued interest, and once more tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow as they made their way down the cobbled street of her neighborhood towards the Pym’s townhouse nestled a few yards back from the street. The houses lining the street were silent; most of the residents were gone at this time of the year, either out in the sands digging up tombs or back in Oxford teaching courses on the ancients or on archaeology.

Very few of the upper class lived year-round in Cairo.

Except for the Pym’s of course. Egypt was in their blood. They would never leave.

As he pushed open the gate of the Pym’s front garden, he said with a crooked little smile on his lips, “I honestly don’t know about Stark, Miss Potts. But I can tell you this,” he paused and glanced at her, the shadows of the overhanging lemon trees they had stopped under shading his face mysteriously. “You’re Stark’s assistant and partner now. If anyone will be able to determine what makes the man tick, it will be you.” She beamed at him, the implications of his words suddenly exciting her but he tightened his grip on her hands and said solemnly as he ducked his head down to meet her gaze, “Please promise me you’ll be careful, Virginia. This is a very big game Stark’s playing. And we are just the pawns. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

She smiled at his concern and patted his cheek gently. “Oh Captain. I’ll be fine. After all, I’ll have you and your men to keep an eye on me. Whatever could go wrong?” She smiled, stood on her tiptoes so she could plant a chaste kiss on his cheek and murmured, “Goodnight Captain.”

Then she slipped free of his hands, her soft chuckle drifting back to him as she made her way through the garden towards the front porch of her home.

Rogers watched her as she opened the front door, snapping on the lights as she made her way through the lower floors of the house, and he tried to ignore a faint sense of unease twisting in his gut at her words. Then with a resigned sigh, he slapped his cap back on his head, tugged his tan uniform jacket straight and turned crisply before making his way to the Citadel and his bunk.

He was going to need to get all of the rest he could before this expedition of theirs.

He may be Stark’s security detail, but somehow he thought he may be more focused on keeping Miss Virginia Potts out of trouble.

His mournful sigh was lost to the Egyptian winds.

* * *

Stark was drunk. He knew he was. But that didn’t stop him from ordering another round of the Orange House’s premium dark ale.

After all, in a few short hours he was going to disembark on a foolish expedition that would most likely kill him. And wasn’t that just poetic justice? He’d survived one desert to be killed by another.

Maybe he should just stand out in the streets, untie his ascot, unbutton his very expensive waistcoat and rip open his shirt so the damn sand could finish him off now.

It’d be easier than pretending he could survive it out in the wild.

“Doomed,” he muttered into his ale. “Brucie, I can’t do it.”

Bruce Banner, his closest friend and possibly the one man in this bar with more secrets than himself, was glaring at him, his dark eyes blazing furiously from behind the lenses of his glasses.

At least they weren’t green…

Yet.

“Brucie…”

Banner sighed. “Don’t Tony. Just…don’t. You’re being melodramatic. We’ll figure this out, you know we will. Even if we have to wrap you in linen bandages like the mummies this damned country loves so much.”

Stark snorted into his beer, the image of Banner mummifying him so amusing he couldn’t even sit upright…

Or was that just the ale talking?

“Don’t you hear it Brucie?” he slurred as his friend considered him. “Don’t you hear it?”

Another put-upon sigh and Stark should have felt guilt for keeping his friend from his experiments but how could he feel anything but the inevitability of his own demise?

“Hear what?” Banner murmured as his eyes darted around the emptying bar of the Orange House. It was late, very late and despite everything, he hadn’t gotten Tony Stark to bed yet. He probably wouldn’t either…

Not without Clint Barton at his side.

Unless…But no. There were too many witnesses about. He didn’t need his other side having an exhibition here in Cairo.

Stark laughed wildly and slumped onto the scarred table, his fingers rising to loosen the sky blue silk of his ascot causing Banner’s eyes to widen at the sight. Before he could stop his friend though, Stark’s hands fell and he slurred into the wood, “The ‘tick, tick, tick’ of death. I’m a timed bomb Brucie. I’m just one ‘tick and whir’ from keeling over into the sands of this damn kingdom. Yes, indeedy.”

Banner sighed and bent towards his friend, his sensitive nose flaring at the smell of fear and alcohol on the man’s breath and he tried to say something reassuring. “You know I won’t let that happen, Tony,” he whispered, his hands sliding out to clasp his friend’s arms. “I’ll wrap you in canvas and carry you in my arms if I have to.”

Stark’s watery chuckle was not reassuring. “Right, Brucie. The Other Guy will carry me all the way to Saqqara? You know that’ll just as good as kill you.”

Dark eyes hidden behind purple lenses rose to meet his bloodshot midnight blue gaze and both men were silent as they considered their own personal dooms.

Then Stark ground out, “I need Potts. Get me Virginia Potts. I have to talk to her about this genius plan of hers. I have…I have to figure this out Brucie.”

When Banner hesitated, the long engrained need for secrecy battling with his loyalties towards this man, Stark’s hand shot out and tangled itself in the other scientist’s scarf. “Get. Me. Virginia. Potts.” He snarled, his blue eyes blazing fiercely.

He pushed Banner away from the table and stood in one fluid motion. “More beer!” he bellowed as he swayed. As Banner straightened Stark glanced at him and snapped, “Do it Banner.” Then, ridiculously he stood on the bar table and began bellowing a rowdy drinking song.

_Ha, ha, ha, you and me,_  
 _Little brown jug, don't I love thee!_  
 _Ha, ha, ha, you and me,_  
 _Little brown jug, don't I love thee!_

As Banner made his way, panic making his heart race and his other half growl ominously in response, there was a loud crash behind him. He didn’t stop though, only dug in his pocket for the remote device he needed to summon the vehicle he had brought along for this adventure.

His ears rang with Stark’s bellowed song but as he pedaled up the street towards the Lemon District he forced himself to concentrate on the hum and tick of the gears spinning beneath his feet.

He had to get to Miss Potts soon.

Or else Stark may do something truly stupid.

* * *

Virginia was deeply asleep when someone knocked on the Pym’s front door a few short hours before dawn. She had collapsed into her bed almost immediately upon her return home and hadn’t even bothered to remove her boots or to brush her hair after unpinning it from its tidy coiffure.

Butterfingers, her dainty mechanical assistant, had pulled the sheets snuggly over her mistress and tugged the mosquito netting closed before settling into her rest, her gears whirring slowly as she powered off.

Now, though, with the sharp knocking once more splitting the house’s still silence, the mech maid’s eyes lit and her transparent head, which showed the clever clockwork workings of her innards, rose to gaze at her sleeping mistress.

“Mis-tress,” she said, as her oiled joints unfolded with clicks and whirs as soft as falling feathers in the still room. “Mis-tress, may I aid you?”

Virginia did not stir, simply buried her face more firmly in the soft down of her pillows. “Mmph,” she murmured, still asleep. “Get that would you Butters? Thank you…”

The mech, hearing the command, nodded with a sharp click and straightened her dainty white maid’s hat and made her way from the room. “Yes, Mis-tress,” she murmured, her tinny voice eager. She rolled from the room and made her way down the carpeted hall of the Pym’s townhouse to the stairway.

She paused there, her golden eyes narrowing as her mechanical mind analyzed the steepness and breadth of the stairs and then with another resolute click and a sharper whir of gears, her wheels vanished and she placed her dainty brass feet carefully upon the stairs; her mechanical genius adjusted with this new style of movement and if Henry Pym had been present to watch his clever invention and not staying on the Richards’ houseboat in the middle of the Nile, he would have been giddy to see her gears adjust and spin with each step.

Finally she was on the ground floor and as the front door’s knocker once more rapped the heavy wood, her wheels reappeared and she rolled quickly down the front hallway, her golden eyes lighting the way through the darkness. She did not pause to acknowledge the sleeping Ultrons in their niches, only gave an oiled sigh as she once more straightened her hat.

Then she swept open the door to confront the Pym’s late night visitor.

“The res-i-dence of the Drs. Henry and Janet Pym,” she said, her head cocking inquisitively as her golden eyes settled on the dark haired man bouncing impatiently up and down on the front porch of the townhouse. “May I be of ass-i-stance, sir?”

Dr. Bruce Banner froze at the sight of a glass and brass mechanical maid standing before him. “Uh,” he choked out as his gaze drifted from the mech’s glowing eyes to its slender, needle thin fingers clasped tightly at its waist. “Uh, is this the residence of Miss Virginia Potts?” he asked weakly as the mech cocked its head in his direction, revealing the brass gears spinning at its temples. “I was told this was where she lived.”

The mechanical hesitated, the gears spinning at double time within the glass confines of its head and Banner shifted as its gaze sized him up. The only time he had been studied so closely by a pile of gears, he had run across JARVIS, Stark’s mechanical butler, after leaving Clint Barton’s room in the wee hours of the morning one time in New York.

Just as he thought this mechanical servant was going to refuse him, its gears hitched, ground and it wheeled a small step backwards, beckoning him into the house.

“Please come in, sir,” it murmured, its voice clicking and sighing over the words. “I shall wake my Mis-tress.”

Banner shivered as he moved past the mech; there was something spooky about these advanced mechanicals, something borderline human about them. He wasn’t sure what it was, but when men like Stark and apparently Dr. Henry Pym, created these geared miracles to so closely resemble their human masters, it felt like they were playing God.

“Thank you,” he murmured as he swept off his bowler hat and ran his fingers through his curls. The maid nodded and led him down the hall to a well-appointed parlor.

“Wait here, sir,” it said as it turned on the lamp sitting beside the cream colored settee. “Miss Potts shall be here short-ly.”

Banner fidgeted self-consciously and glanced at his pocket watch. He was running out of time. He needed to get Miss Potts back to the Orange House before disaster struck once more. He shivered as he remembered Tony bellowing about the pharaoh’s plans to kill him and how he needed his assistant so he could tell her a secret.

He’d always hated it when Tony Stark fell into one of his drunken rages.

It was very quiet in the Pym’s house and he sighed; he should have been in bed, not standing in this tidy parlor. He should have been making notes in his journal about the certain behaviors of his other side he had experienced tonight.

But no, he was once more in charge of fixing up Tony Stark.

Which had always been the way for them. Tony would get himself into trouble and Dr. Bruce Banner would come to the rescue, sweeping his friend out of danger and often taking the brunt of the blame.

Not that he minded. He would always be in debt to Tony Stark. The man had taken him in when his own father had cast him out. He’d provided him with safety, with friendship and enough funding to continue his experiments.

He’d never not be in debt to the man.

“Dr. Banner?”

He jumped at the quiet voice speaking from the doorway and turned hurriedly to see Tony Stark’s apparent assistant standing before him with tousled hair and sleep-clouded eyes.

“Miss Potts!” he exclaimed in relief as he approached her. “Thank you for seeing me!”

She smiled wryly as he bowed before her and murmured as his eyes, shadowed behind their tinted glasses, met her own, “I didn’t have much of a choice I’m afraid, Dr. Banner. Butters practically dragged me from the bed.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the golden eyed maid and sighed as she turned back to her visitor. “What can I do for you doctor? I thought we were not departing until dawn? It just turned three. Has something happened?” Her fingers tightened around the neck of her dressing gown as her mind once more darted to the garden.

She jumped when Dr. Banner spoke and she forced her mind away from its guilty train-of-thought as the man said, “Its Tony, I’m afraid, Miss Potts. He’s gone on a rampage. Nothing we can do will calm him down and he won’t stop asking for you. You have to come.”

“Me?!” she gasped, her eyes wide. “Why me? Isn’t his fiancée with him? Why does he need me?”

Banner’s lips twitched into a hard, bitter smile and he ran his hands once more through his hair. “There’s a lot you’re going to have to catch-up on if you’re joining this team, Miss Potts. One thing you’ll have to understand is that Rumiko Fujikawa’s and Tony’s betrothal is a pairing of necessity. That does not mean they like or help each other. So the reason he’s asking for you as he slumps over the stained and sticky table in that seedy bar is because in his drunken state he believes he can trust you.” He sighed at this and she shifted uncomfortably at his words. Before she could protest, though, he held his hand out and asked, “Are you someone he can trust, Miss Potts?”

In that moment, as she hesitated, she could swear his eyes flashed green in the warm light of the parlor and she shivered. Then, with a resigned sigh she set her hand in his and nodded, “Very well, Dr. Banner,” she murmured as his callused fingers closed around her own. “I will come. Let me get dressed first. Five minutes.”

He released her hand with a sigh, his muscles easing from their sudden tensing and he nodded. “Please hurry,” he said as she left the room, along with her mechanical maid. “I don’t know what he’s going to do.”

“Of course, Dr. Banner,” she murmured as the door swept closed behind her. Once more he was left alone with his dual thoughts and he shivered as that other half of himself, the angry side he had found while experimenting with Dr. Erskine’s formulas, rumbled softly in the back of his head. He would have to make a note about how hard it was to keep control when he was worried or tense.

Before he could think much longer on his illicit experiments, Miss Potts returned. His eyes widened as he took in her attire and she smiled a crooked little smile at his discomfiture. “I decided it would be best to wear the clothes I normally wear when I am off to a dig. Especially since I do not know how long this will take,” she explained as she slid her arms into a leather riding jacket. It settled around her, further accentuating her tiny waist and rounded derriere and Dr. Banner flushed as he averted his eyes.

She rested her hand on the shoulder of her mechanical maid as she slid first one foot and then another into the knee high leather boots the mech had set before her and she chuckled. “Do women in the Colonies not wear the masculine styles, doctor?” she asked curiously as the mech bent to lace the boots tightly around her shapely calves.

Banner shook his head and cleared his throat as she slid into the canvas coat she held. “Not the ladies of means, Miss Potts. I’m afraid England hasn’t influenced our fashion overmuch as of yet.”

She snorted and adjusted her gloves and hat before turning to leave the parlor. “Pity, it’s so much easier to wear slacks than several kilograms of muslin,” she murmured. “Well, let’s be off then. We can’t have Dr. Stark burning down Madam Sevora’s inn.”

Banner sighed and followed her, his eyes striving to gaze at anything other than her derriere as she made her way down the hall in front of him. He ultimately failed. As they stepped onto the walkway leading to the quiet street the Pym’s house was set back from she glanced at him and smiled. “Shall we walk doctor? It’s a lovely night.”

Banner shifted uncomfortably and shook his head. “I’m afraid there’s no time Miss Potts,” he murmured as he rummaged in his coat’s pocket. “We’ll take the Tessla-cycle.”

Virginia’s eyebrows rose as he removed a tiny brass box from his pocket and placed his thumb on the clever button hidden amongst its gears. “Whatever is a Tessla-cycle?” she asked as a faint hum issued from the box. Before the doctor could explain there was a rustle to their side and a rather clever cycle appeared.

Dr. Banner smiled at her gasp of surprise and hurried over to the contraption. “It’s something a personal friend lent me a year or so ago before he himself disappeared. Tony’s improved on it, of course, but it is still essentially the same device.”

He held his hand out towards her but she hesitated as she approached the heavy two-wheeled contraption. Bright brass and dark iron glinted in the moonlight and she couldn’t help an appreciative shiver as she brushed her fingers over the rounded fender covering the rear wheel. Bending to inspect the coil buried deep within the mechanics of the vehicle, her nose flared at the familiar smell of charged ozone and she gasped, “It’s powered by an electro-current!”

Dr. Banner nodded, stunned surprise flitting across his face at the young woman’s exclamation and he said, “That’s correct Miss Potts. You charge it by pedaling for a few yards and then the coil converts the electrons you’ve gathered into energy and the gears wind with the stored current. I’m afraid it can be rather ostentatious but it’s much faster than walking.”

Virginia’s soft laugh filled the lemon scented garden as Dr. Banner helped her on the seat of the cycle and he studied her dryly before swinging onto the seat in front of her. “Mm,” he murmured as he flicked the tiny switch hidden between the handlebars of the cycle. “Perhaps it’s a good thing you’re wearing slacks, Miss Potts. The last time a lady rode the cycle with Tony, her skirts got caught in the coil and went up in flames. I’m afraid her undergarments were exposed for all to see in the middle of Central Park.”

Virginia gasped and then laughed as the gears of the motor began to spin with Dr. Banner’s pedaling and she called as they rolled down the garden walkway, “I’m sure Dr. Stark didn’t do that on purpose, Dr. Banner, am I right?”

His soft chuckle was all the answer she needed and as his pedaling picked up speed she giggled. The Tessla’s coil began to charge with the doctor’s work and she couldn’t resist watching as the white-hot electro-currents began spinning along the coil between her feet. Soon the gears of the motor ticked and whirred on their own and to her utter amazement the cycle picked up speed.

“Amazing,” she murmured as Dr. Banner took his feet off the pedals and rested them on the footrests at either side of the treaded wheel at the front of the cycle.

His lips twitched upwards in a small smile and as they sped silently along the streets of Cairo he found himself reflecting on the young woman seated behind him on the narrow seat of the Tessla-cycle. She’d proven twice over her intelligence but was that all that his friend admired about her? Why else had he been so adamant about her joining their team?

What was so different about Virginia Potts?

It couldn’t be…attraction, could it?

Was Dr. Anthony Stark capable of feeling anything other than the desire to invent more bizarre contraptions suited to his rather eccentric needs?

Dr. Bruce Banner, one of Stark’s closest friends and most trusted confidantes, wasn’t completely confident the inventor was.

And he meant that with the highest regard.

* * *

“Dr. Stark, you’re being ridiculous. Put your pants on.”

Stark glanced up from his unusual placement upon the Orange House’s reed covered floor and chuckled. “Can’t, I’m beating these lushes at Black Jack,” he slurred as he tried to sit up. The men sitting at the table above him snorted and simply gathered their winnings as he rolled around in the beer stained reeds.

Virginia rolled her eyes and watched dispassionately as Dr. Banner caught his friend around the shoulders and heaved him upright. “Whatever kind of game is Black Jack?” she asked as his head lolled in her direction. “Pray tell it doesn’t involve the removal of all your clothes every time you lose a hand.”

He snorted and caught Banner around the head so he could use the man’s stocky frame as leverage for regaining his feet. “You know, I never noticed it before, but your English comes out much more when you’re angry, Pepper,” he grumbled as his legs twisted beneath him, forcing him to sprawl across Banner’s chest. “Didn’t know you were Queen Vicky.”

Virginia sighed forlornly as Banner swore under his breath at the sudden collapse of their bodies and she bent to catch a hold of Stark’s arm. “I’m not the Queen, Dr. Stark. And please don’t call me Pepper,” she said stiffly as she hauled him upright. His legs held him this time, but his head fell forward to rest against her chest. She rolled her eyes again and pushed his chin up so his head lay in a more proper position against her shoulder. “I simply revert to my roots whenever I’m irritated,” she continued as Banner managed to yank Stark’s slacks up over his legs and back to their proper position at his waist.

Stark’s head still rested on her shoulder though; a cheeky grin darted across his lips as his fingers rose to toy with the black jet buttons of her coat and he chuckled. She pushed him away and into the arms of his friend.

“Take him upstairs Dr. Banner,” she snapped as Stark reached out to stroke her face. “I’ll be up as soon as he’s decent and in bed.”

“Yes, right away Miss Potts,” murmured the doctor as he gathered up his friend and began hauling him towards the stairs leading to the guest chambers of the inn.

Absently she shook out her hands; she barely noticed the odd tingle running through her fingers as she made her way to the bar. She didn’t even pause to think of how touching Stark always left her fingers feeling charged, almost as if they had touched mech.

With a heavy sigh she rested against the granite counter and pulled a silver para from her coin purse. “One half-pint,” she murmured to the barkeep as she set the coin on the counter.

He chuckled and pushed the coin back towards her. “No charge, my lady,” he murmured, his eyes twinkling. “You were the only one to calm that American demon. No charge.”

Her eyes widened as he pushed a mug towards her and then she chuckled. “Well, thank you!” she said as she raised the cup to her lips. “I’m just glad to be of assistance.”

Half-an-hour and nearly two mugs of ale later, someone tapped her shoulder and she turned on her stool to see Dr. Banner watching her thoughtfully. “He’s ready to see you now, if you want, Miss Potts,” he murmured.

“Oh!” she gasped as she set the mug aside. “I’m sorry! I was only waiting…”

He nodded. “It’s fine ma’am. God knows I could do with a drink as well,” he murmured as she slid from the stool and staggered as her equilibrium righted itself.

She smiled as his hand shot out to steady her and she asked as he started to lead her away, “Then why don’t you?”

His dark glance sobered her almost immediately and he shook his head. “Spirits don’t agree with me anymore Miss Potts.”

Before she could wonder about that enigmatic answer, they had stopped outside of a heavy wooden door near the end of the hall and Dr. Banner had knocked. It was quiet for a moment and then a much calmer version of Dr. Stark’s voice said, “Come in.”

Dr. Banner glanced at the woman at his side and sighed. “Ready?” he asked, his heart hammering in his chest.

She frowned as his hand rested on the latch and asked as he pushed the door open, “Ready? For what?”

He didn’t answer as he led her into the bedchamber.

But Stark did. Or better yet, his heart did.

“Do you see my dilemma, Miss Potts?” he asked as she stared at him in fascinated horror. “Do you see why this damn desert is going to kill me?”

All she could do was stare as the gears and brackets buried in his chest continued their steady spinning and clicking, doing their never-ending job of keeping Dr. Anthony Stark’s heart beating.

Yes, she understood his dilemma.

As Stark stared emotionlessly at her, Lieutenant James ‘Wolverine’ Logan’s words came back to her and she shivered.

_What happens, Stark? What happens is, one grain of sand gets in those gears, and your whole ship goes down. One grain of sand can mean the end of anything with clockwork._

“Well,” she said weakly as the steady ‘tick-whir-tick’ of those gears spinning deep within his chest assaulted her ears. “That certainly is a problem.”

His bitter laugh almost horrified her more than the brass apparatus filling ninety-percent of his chest cavity.

Almost.


	7. The Team Assembles

Dawn came too fast for Stark's team of adventurers.

All across Cairo, they stirred as the sky lightened above the slow flowing Nile. Very few of them greeted it with any sense of excitement.

As her door was thrown open to reveal her guardians' still in their evening wear from the night they'd spent on the Richards' house boat, Virginia Potts turned in the window seat she had perched in after returning from the Orange House and smiled weakly.

She couldn't tell Janet or Henry Pym why she was so scared of this journey into the desert.

She moved in a daze as Janet helped her get ready for her departure to the Cairo docks; she was so lost to her thoughts, she barely reacted at the sight of Harmonia Potts' clever trunk resting in the parlor, waiting for her use.

It wasn't until Henry handed her her mother's specially designed color changing goggles she had worn on every dig or outing in the sands of Egypt, that Virginia finally realized that this was it.

She was going to Saqqara.

"Thank you," she whispered as she hugged first Janet and then Henry. "Thank you for your care."

Neither of her guardians quite knew how to react to this sudden solemnity.

They watched her carefully as they made their ways to the docks a bare hour before dawn, their eyes worried. But neither broached the subject of what was concerning their ward. They simply believed it was nerves related to Stark and his dig. Virginia avoided their gazes and tried to ignore the 'tick-tick-tick' spinning through the back of her head.

 _Do you see my dilemma_? he'd said.

 _Tick-tick-tick,_ his heart had said.

 _Well, that certainly is a problem_ , she'd said as prim and proper as could be.

What were they going to do about Dr. Anthony Stark's heart?

She still didn't have an answer. Even when the Pym's carriage arrived at the docks.

She couldn't help shivering at the sight of Stark running down the gangplank of the _Helvetica_ , his hand tangled around that of a dark haired girl dressed in slightly too big men's pants.

"Perhaps it is a good thing we packed all of your slacks, my dear," Janet said at the sight of the girl being thrust into the Oriental woman's arms.

She wore the ceremonial garb of her culture.

Including white face paint.

Virginia's lips twitched involuntarily into a smile. "Yes, I think it was a very good idea, Aunt Jan," she murmured as she disembarked from the Pym's carriage.

She ignored the horrified glances she received from Stark's betrothed and instead hurried over to where he stood with Captain Rogers and Lieutenant Logan. In the distance she could hear Sergeant Barnes' voice as he directed the porters on how to load their dozen or so camels.

As she neared the three men, Stark turned to her and smirked. "Hullo Pepper," he said, his voice sardonic and grating. "Sleep well?"

She glared at him and busied herself with her satchel. "I told you Dr. Stark," she snapped as she pulled maps and general notes she had written about Saqqara and Djoser's treasure tomb from the bag. "My name is Virginia. You're not allowed to call me Pepper."

Stark's eyes narrowed behind the tinted glasses he wore and he cocked his head as he considered the petite red head standing before him.

She wore much the same outfit as she had worn last night for his big reveal. She'd added some curious items to the get-up though. A bournousse, much like the one's the Captain and his men wore over their hardened bucket hats, draped her hair to fall across her chest. He knew, from past experience in the Afghans, that should the need arise, that extra draping could be used to cover her nose and mouth.

Along with the scarf, she wore a light linen shirt and a fitted embroidered waistcoat. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the watch chain draped across its front and he wondered if she had found a way to fix her father's spectroscope.

He hoped so.

Gone was the tan leather riding coat, but he suspected that particular item would make an appearance ere the trip was through.

As she moved past him to hand her maps and papers to the Lieutenant, Stark's eyes followed her, narrowing still more at the sight of her in slacks. It was a sight he hadn't had much of a chance to appreciate this morning. But he certainly appreciated it now.

"Dr. Stark, if you've had your fill of studying my derriere I think you should come here and study these maps the Lieutenant and I have found."

He jumped guiltily and as he moved around the Captain he did not miss the man's warning glare. He rolled his eyes as he sidled up to his assistant and the Wolverine and said coyly, "Yes Pepper. Apologies."

She sighed, a rather put-upon sound and Stark smirked. "Please, sir, I've asked-"

He raised his hand, halting her words and shook his head. "I'm sorry Miss Potts but Pepper it's going to be. Vir-gin-ia is much too long and frankly you're not much of a Ginny. So I'm going to call you Pepper. And I'm afraid there's not much you can do about it."

She glared at him, her lips pursing as she tried to think of a way out of this. He smiled sweetly and turned to the Lieutenant who was chewing on his cigar and busying himself with the metal panels of his clawed gauntlets.

"I always liked the name Pepper, Miss Potts. You should stick with it," said the man as his claws extended with a quiet _snick_.

She sighed and finally gave up. "All right. But just for the duration of this journey," she snapped as she stabbed her finger absently into Stark's chest.

Only the Lieutenant noticed when she flushed and the doctor took a step away from her.

"Right! Pepper it is! But only for the duration of this trip and our partnership!" He held his hand out towards her and she smiled as she shook hands with the doctor.

Logan's eyebrow rose and he shook his head when the two turned back to the maps, acting as if nothing had happened. His eyes were shadowed under the brim of his cavalry hat and as the metal plates snapped into place over the knuckles of his claws Stark made a mental note to ask the man how his clever devices worked.

He was suddenly inspired to create a similar case for his own geared mech.

"If you're dead set on Saqqara, Stark," growled the Lieutenant as he studied the maps the Potts girl had provided. "We should stick to the river roads for the first few days. No sense in striking out into the sands right away."

Stark nodded in agreement, his eyes noting with pleasure the many villages and towns located near the Nile. Villages and towns meant bars and inns.

And limited contact with sand.

"Good idea Lieutenant," he began.

He got no further. Suddenly the _Helvetica's_ berth was thrown into chaos as two women thundered into the docks on two black horses, one of which bore a nearly naked blonde man tossed across its withers. Everywhere hands flew to guns and hidden knives as Stark's team prepared for an attack.

Was Hammer taking matters into his own hands finally?

Or was this...

"Barton!" bellowed Stark as he pushed past his assistant and the Lieutenant. "Where the devil have you been?!"

A man's voice started to laugh and as the first woman swung off her horse, Clint Barton raised his head from near the horse's elbow and slurred, "Hey Stark! You won't believe the news I have for you!"

Before Stark could respond, Captain Rogers pushed to the front of the little crowd gathered around the two women and their captive and snapped, "Sergeant Morse, what are you doing here?"

The first woman saluted smartly, a small smirk on her lips and she said, "Returning something to Dr. Stark sir! We found him in the Citadel last night and thought he might be needed before Stark left at dawn."

Rogers sighed and Stark's eyebrow quirked as he noted the man's shield strapped to his right arm. Barnes had told him of the Captain's favorite weapon but he hadn't seen it before now.

"It's fine Captain," he called as he moved towards his still laughing bodyguard. "I'll take care of this wretch."

"Boss," Barton slurred as he struggled to get off of Sergeant Morse's horse. "You won't believe who's here!"

"I know Barton," Stark said as he glanced around his team for Bruce Banner. He'd seen the man on the _Helvetica_ overseeing the storing of the medical supplies.

Barton snorted. "Hammer's here and you're being pretty nonchalant about this boss."

Seeing Banner, he waved the man over but before his friend could get to him, Barton had wriggled off of his horse to collapse across his employer’s chest. "Whoops," he said as his head connected with Stark's jaw. "Sorry boss. I ran into some old friends and may have gotten a little bit drunk."

Stark rolled his eyes as Barton sprawled in his arms; the second soldier, a dusky skinned woman with unusual white hair let out a throaty chuckle as Banner arrived and leaned across her horse's neck to say to Barton, "Thanks for stopping by Hawkeye. It was good to see you with your shirt off. Again." She caught the other horse's reins and tossed a rumpled pile of Barton's clothes onto the docks before wheeling off in the direction her partner and the Captain had gone.

"Good luck in the desert, Stark!" she shouted as she rode off, white hair streaming behind her.

Barton, now being supported by Bruce Banner waved after her and said with a little hiccup, "Bye Ororo! Good to see you again." His head lolled on his neck and he smiled as he realized who exactly held him. "Bruce! I'm sorry I didn't come home last night. I ran into Bobbi and Ororo and they got me into a game of Black Jack."

“I can see that,” Bruce sighed as he hauled the other man more firmly into his arms and said to Stark as Miss Potts appeared, "I'll just get him cleaned up."

Stark nodded and glanced at his assistant who was frowning slightly as Barton gazed at her. "Hi," he said, almost spilling out of Banner's arms as he stretched out his hand for her to shake. "Clint Barton. I'm Dr. Stark's bodyguard. Who are you?"

"This is Pepper Potts," Stark said, a small smile on his lips. "She's my assistant-"

"And partner," the much put-upon Pepper said with a sharp look at Stark. She shook the bodyguard's hand and smiled. "You make an excellent bodyguard Mr. Barton."

Banner snorted and started dragging the drunk man away. Before they got far though, Barton shouted over the other man's shoulder, "Thanks lady! Hey! Love your name. It's pretty."

She chuckled at his toothy grin and shook her head.

Seeing Stark's smug little smile she sighed and waved her hand in his direction as she turned to go speak with her guardians. "Oh all right," she grumbled as she left. "You win. I'll keep the name."

His laughter followed across the bustling docks as she made her way to where the Pym’s were overseeing the loading of her camels. She only shook her head and sighed again. She couldn’t stop a small smile from lifting her lips though.

Traveling with Stark was certainly going to be interesting, to say the very least.

Captain Rogers was talking with Bobbi Morse and Ororo Munroe when he was struck from behind by a young woman with dark hair carrying a rather large handful of books.

"Oh sorry chap!" she said as Rogers snatched a few of the soon-to-fall books from her hands. "Didn't see you there!"

He froze at the sight of the young woman smiling cheekily around her books and cleared his throat. He missed the knowing looks the two women shot at each other; all he noticed was the girl's dark, sparkling eyes.

"I-it's all right," he choked out. "You obviously have a handful there. Would you like some help?"

"That would be lovely Captain," she said as he lightened her load. "Dr. Banner wanted me to deposit these in his trunks. I think they're medical journals."

Rogers absently said goodbye to Bobbi and Ororo before following her, his eyes slightly dazed as he listened to her. She glanced at him from over her shoulder as they arrived at two placid camels and cocked her head in his direction; Rogers jumped. She suddenly reminded him of Dr. Stark.

"Are you-" he said at the same time she said, "I'm Peggy-"

They paused, waiting for the other to go first and then she laughed and set her books down.

"Margaret Carter," she said with a small smile on her lips as she thrust her hand out for him to shake. "But my friends call me Peggy. How do you do."

He shuffled the dozen or so books so he could free his hand to shake hers. "Captain Steve Rogers, ma'am. How do you do."

She smiled brightly at that and glanced over his shoulder at the shield on his back. "Stark design, right?" she asked as she turned to open one of Dr. Banner's trunks sitting on a wagon beside his camels.

Rogers hesitated and then nodded as he handed his books over. "How do you know that?" he asked as she straightened and blew a few curls off of her forehead.

She smirked and twitched her shirt straight before moving past him to return to the _Helvetica_. "I'm a Stark on my mother's side Captain," she called over her shoulder. "I know my family's work." Gathering her skirts in her hands she turned back to him and cocked her head, a considering frown on her brow as she studied him and the bit of shield she could see. "Vibranium, isn't it?" she asked. She didn't wait for him to respond, simply turned and continued on her way, just calling over her shoulder, "Super rare that, Cap. Keep your eye on it lest you lose it."

The Captain stared after her, a slightly stunned look on his face; he barely reacted when one of Dr. Banner's camels dropped his head over his shoulder and snorted in his ears.

"Wow," was all he could say. The camel only drooled in response. "Eurgh, gerroff," he exclaimed at the drool dripping down his shoulder. "Damn camels," he grumbled as he made his way towards where Sergeants Morse and Monroe were talking with Sergeant Barnes and Lieutenant Logan.

"Logan, I think you're in for an interesting mission," Ororo said, her grey eyes thoughtful as she watched the Captain and the young woman.

Logan only grunted and lit his cigar. "I just hope they all remember where we’re going. There’s no time for romance on this mission. We get to Saqqara, Stark gets whatever he’s come for and then we get our camel’s asses back to Cairo as soon as possible." He snorted and took a heavy drag on his cigar.

Bobbi's eyes were thoughtful as she watched Stark help his betrothed onto her camel. "Why did he bring her I wonder? She’s not exactly Egypt material is she? She belongs on a porcelain vase.”

Ororo nodded. “Arranged marriages. The fact that they still happen, even in this modern era, it’s disgusting.”

Logan snorted. “As long as she doesn’t hold us up or doesn’t complain too much, I won’t bother her. She’s Stark’s responsibility, not ours.”

Barnes stretched his arm out and flexed the fingers carefully, one-by-on, listening as the gears and pistons of the joints whirred and flexed. Glancing at the two women and his lieutenant, he smirked before saying, “Those women Stark brought? His cousin and his fiancée? They’re going to be more trouble than they’re worth-“

"What were you saying Sergeant?"

All four jumped, guilty expressions on at least two of their faces as they turned to see their Captain standing behind them with his arms folded over his chest. His cold blue eyes were settled on Sergeant Barnes, who flushed and straightened before executing a sharp salute, the gears of his arm glinting in the pre-dawn light.

"We were, uh, just saying," he sputtered uncomfortably. "Just saying, uh..."

Rogers' eyebrow rose and he glanced from Munroe and Morse to the calmly smoking Logan before turning back to Barnes and saying softly, "You were just saying you hope you'll be Madam Fujikawa's and Miss Carter's personal security detail, weren't you?"

Bobbi Morse snorted from behind her hand but Rogers ignored her. His thoughtful blue eyes were locked on Barnes who had flushed at the Captain's subtle order; his jaw flexed and Rogers waited for the inevitable outburst.

It didn't come.

Instead, Barnes ground out a "Yes sir," and pivoted on his booted heel before heading in the direction of Rumiko Fujikawa who was reclined upon her camel waiting for the rest of the team to assemble. Rogers almost cringed at the elegant draping of her kimono over the camel's saddle.

If he was being honest...even he didn't like Madam Fujikawa that much.

He sighed and forced his muscles to relax. Ever since last night in the bar, Bucky had been cold, hard almost and Rogers thought he knew why.

Glancing at Ororo and Bobbi he shrugged. "Sorry about that ladies. He's a little on edge. It will do him some good to spend time with Stark's cousin and fiancee."

Ororo nodded her eyes thoughtful as she watched Barnes talk to the Fujikawa woman. "Good choice Captain. Logan told us who's on Hammer's team. I would be surprised if Bucky wasn't upset by that."

Rogers nodded, thanked the women for returning Barton to Stark and then turned to finish overseeing the assembly of Stark's team. Dawn was nearing. They'd need to be off soon.

As Logan helped the agents onto their horses, Bobbi shook her head. "Natasha Romanoff. I can't believe she's here in Egypt." Glancing at the Lieutenant she continued, "You watch your back Logan. That woman is dangerous and if she's here with Hammer then that can only mean trouble for you."

Ororo nodded as she gathered the reins in her right hand. "Bobbi's right, Logan," she said, her voice soft as she gazed at the smoking soldier. "You have to keep an eye out. And don't let Barnes do anything stupid."

He snorted. "You know that's impossible Ororo. Barnes has about as much brains as a goldfish." He paused and fiddled with the leather straps of his right-hand gauntlet for a moment before raising his eyes to Ororo Munroe's; only she saw the softness in his gaze there and a familiar shiver flitted up her spine at the sight. "But I'll keep your words in mind ma'am."

A small smile flitted across her lips and as Bobbi wheeled her horse and began weaving through the camels and darting porters to leave the docks, she bent over her horse's withers to plant a soft kiss on teh grizzled lieutenant's cheek. "Goodbye Lieutenant," she murmured against his sideburns. "Safe travels. Make sure you come back alive."

He flushed and cleared his throat and as she herself began to head away from the docks he called after her, "I'll see you in a few months Sergeant!"

"You better," she shouted over her shoulder as she kneed her horse between a wagon and two camels. "You still have to see my weather machine!"

Logan's lips twitched in a small smile at the mention of her clockwork she had commissioned on the fly from a Brit named Charles Xavier. Apparently it gave her power over the weather.

He wasn't sure he believed her.

But then again, whenever Ororo Munroe was in Cairo, the weather was certainly pleasant.

Of course that could just be him...

He snorted and shook his head. "Get her out of your head bub," he snarled to himself as he made his way to his camel waiting at the front of the docks. All scrambled to get out of his way at the furious scowl on his face; very few would ever believe Lieutenant James 'Wolverine' Logan capable of smiling, let alone romantic feelings for a particular SHIELD agent with a love for weather.

That was almost harder to believe in than mysterious treasures hidden in the desert.

As the sky lightened the Cairo docks began to bustle; while most modern cities had begun to accommodate the lighter-than-air ships that had suddenly grown in popularity with Giffard's creation of a steam powered dirigible, Cairo was still very much stuck in its ways. The Nile docks had only two converted berth's for dirigible's and Stark wasted no time in buying the one nearest an empty bay of warehouses.

He was not going to leave one of his greatest mechanical treasures in the hands of yokels who knew nothing of mech devices.

Stark's _Helvetica_ and Hammer's _Lady Beatrice_ , nearly ten berths over, were the only ships in sight and they had caused quite a stir amongst the locals. The porters unloading the _Helvetica_ had had to weave between curious children and darkly muttering citizens all morning.

None quite knew what to make of the looming ship with its rigid canvas balloon and towering gondola at the base of the ship's shell. It was simply mind boggling.

Miss Potts, now Pepper Potts since Dr. Stark had wasted no time in alerting his companions as to her changed nomenclature, couldn't help but stare in wonder at the ship as Stark discussed its care with his captain.

"The two warehouses should store it well," he was saying to the young man as she approached. "When we're off, lower it and have the crew pull it in. Lock the doors, have a guard posted on it at all times." He glanced at Pepper who was nibbling her lip and twisting her fingers in one of the thick ropes tying off the ship. "Hold on a moment Sam," he said as he made his way over to her.

Casting his eyes around, he spotted Peggy talking to a scowling Sergeant Barnes and waved her over. Turning to his assistant he smiled. "Would you like to see the inside before we dry dock her?" he asked when she turned to him.

Pepper stilled, her body yearning towards the gangplank and then she glanced at the sky above them. "There isn't time, Dr. Stark," she said, regret in her voice. "You heard Hammer, we depart at dawn. It's nearly time now."

Stark chuckled as his cousin sidled up to them and shook his head. "Nonsense," he said as he slung his arm over Peggy's shoulder. "There's always time to go exploring." Glancing at a slightly bewildered Peggy he continued, "How about it Meg? Mind showing Potts here around the old girl that way she can see what a real lighter-than-air ship looks like before she gets cobwebby and sad?"

Peggy chuckled and nodded, her dark eyes curious as she turned to her cousin's assistant. "Sure Tony," she said as she shrugged out from under his arm. "Come on Miss Potts. We can have a quick tour."

As she dragged Pepper up the plank, Tony shouted, "Find Banner and Barton! We're leaving as soon as the Captain and Lieutenant are certain our supplies are packed sufficiently."

"Yes sir!" Peggy bellowed back with a roll of her eyes. "Right," she said as they pushed through the heavy wooden door at the base of the gondola. "We'll find the B's and then make a run to the lavatory. I'm taking off this blasted skirt. It's going to be hotter than the five hells today."

Before Pepper could respond she was being dragged through the crew's living quarters towards a twisting iron staircase at the back of the long room. Gazing around as they rushed through the room she noted the sparseness and couldn't help but ask, "What is the crew doing while we're off to Saqqara? Are they coming with us?"

Peggy shook her dark head and began clattering up the iron stairs. "No. Tony wants them here in Cairo to make sure the ship stays safe. He could send them back to the States but he wants them nearby. He had Banner pack the portable telegraph unit that way if an emergency should arise Captain Wilson can be notified."

"An emergency?" Pepper gasped as they finally arrived in the main living quarters of the ship.

"Well, yes," Peggy said as she headed down a narrow hall. "He's not going to go abroad without at least a back-up plan."

Pepper started to ask if this was because of the man's dealings with the militants but froze as her feet settled in plush Turkish carpets and gasped as she gazed in wonder around her. Everywhere was dark mahogany wood, brass and black iron fixtures and beautiful artwork.

It was like stepping into the hunting lodge of a well-to-do aristocrat.

Peggy glanced at her and chuckled. "Come on. This is just the servant’s quarters. Not that Tony ever employs servants anymore. He's got JARVIS and the other mech for that. This hall is mostly empty when we're off on a family venture."

Pepper's mouth snapped closed as once more she was being dragged down the hall; she couldn't help being amazed at the opulence of this ship. She almost forgot she was in a flying fortress.

Peggy was still chattering. "Tony doesn't think anything is going to happen but that's just Stark bull-headedness my mother would say. He doesn't think anything bad could happen to himself ever. If you ask me, he's as delusional as my uncle Howard. But don't tell him I said that, he'll have my ears and then I'll never be allowed to leave Ru's side."

Pepper forced herself to focus, despite the fact that they were now running through an entryway full of Tiffany glass and marble sculptures. This ship suddenly reminded her of the great ocean liner she had ridden upon when she first came from England as a child.

"Peggy," she asked as they rushed up the Great Staircase, their hands drifting over the silken mahogany of the banister. "Did the White brother's influence Dr. Stark in this ships design?"

"I would avoid saying that name in the presence of Dr. Stark Miss Potts," said a voice from the head of the twisting stairway.

Both girls gasped and turned to see Dr. Bruce Banner and a now sober Clint Barton heading down the stairs towards them. Banner was carrying a leather satchel stuffed to the brim with papers. Barton was fiddling with a quiver of arrows. In his hand was an amazing bow of mechanical genius.

Pepper immediately spotted Dr. Anthony Stark's influence in its construction.

"Hello Brucie!" Peggy called as the men neared them. Banner smiled gently at her, his dark eyes sparkling in the lamplight.

"Hello Peggy. What are you two doing?" he asked as Barton executed a complicated handshake with the young woman.

Pepper's eyes were wide as she watched their going-ons and when Peggy piped up, "Oh just looking for you love birds and then we're off to the ladies to powder our noses," she felt as if she was going to melt into the floor.

Her eyes darted from man-to-man, her mind spinning over the girl's words, but neither reacted. Barton only snorted and tapped Peggy's nose saying, "You desert minx, powder won't do anything for those freckles. What's your mother going to say when we bring back an Indian and not a proper English lass?

Peggy laughed and shook her head. "Clint, you know as well as any that I have never been a 'proper English lass.' Only my mother still believes in that myth."

Barton chuckled, shot a mischievous glance at Pepper, and smiled, "Well, go on you two. We'll be rolling out soon. Come on Bruce." And with that he was off, shooting a wink at both girls before slapping a Stetson on his head and folding his bow away so he could slip it in his pocket.

Banner's eyes were thoughtful as he watched the bodyguard bound down the stairs and then he turned to the girls; seeing Pepper's rather bewildered expression he smiled gently and said, "He's a handful but he means well." Glancing at Peggy who was fiddling with the pins in her hair to stall some of the fall of her curls he said, "Ten minutes Peg. Don't get lost in the engine room on your way out."

She snorted as he tipped his bowler hat and slung his satchel over his shoulder. "Those two, I swear."

Then without waiting for a response she was off, this time pulling Pepper into a cavernous washroom just off the main hall.  As she ducked behind a dressing screen, she quickly undid the ivory buttons at her skirt waist and yanked the skirt off with a fierce laugh.  She proceeded to toss it in the waste receptacle bin.  Rumiko would be displeased but Peggy Carter was nearly twenty years of age and an adult.  It was about time she did as she pleased.  Tony wouldn't mind...

Pepper was oblivious to the younger girl's disrobing and she couldn't help the gasp that echoed through the space and as she gazed around the soft mint green tiles and marble fixtures she whispered, "This is stunning!"

Peggy glanced at her from around the dressing screen and snorted. "This is the first level washroom. Imagine what Tony's look like."

Pepper couldn't.

After a quick moment Peggy emerged from behind the screen wearing fitted slacks, ankle-high heeled boots and a shirt-waist.

"Well?" she asked as she braided her hair quickly. "Is this going to be better than that dress?"

Pepper couldn' help smiling at the young woman's excitement and brushed her hand against the soft wool of her own pants. "Oh most definitely Miss Carter. You'll find riding a camel for days-on-end is not the most decorous of outings."

Peggy nodded and sighed. "I'm not really surprised,” she said as she began twining her braid in a complicated updo. “I do wish the States followed the Brits fashion practices. Sometimes I can't help but feel the Yanks are so backwards despite the industrial revolution they so proudly support. It is really quite infuriating." She sighed and stabbed one last pin into her hair, succeeding finally at locking her braid in a tight spiral around the top of her skull. "You're lucky you've reached your majority," she continued as she pulled a scarf out of her pockets. Glancing at Pepper in the large, silver-plate mirror she smiled as she tied the silk scarf around her hair. "You don't have to worry about your mother catching you out with grease on your hands or in your cousin's slacks."

Before Pepper could respond there was the distant ringing of a bell and Peggy jumped.

"Oh hell!" she gasped. "Time's up! Come along Potts, we'd better get to the docks before Tony leaves without us!"

And she was off.

Anthony Stark was nose-to-nose with his camel when dawn started to lighten the skies over Cairo and Captain Rogers rang the dockside bell, summoning any stragglers of his team to their camels.

He grimaced as the great knock-kneed beast snorted and tried to eat his hat. Pulling away before the beast could eat his favorite belonging he grumbled, “I have survived militants in the caves of Afghanistan, fitted my heart with enough mech to keep it beating and sponsored my cousin in the Engineers Legion. Riding a camel should be as simple as designing a steam-powered bicycle."

Rumiko's soft chuckle coming from the camel beside his grated on his already frazzled nerves and she murmured from her high seat, "Are you discomfited by your beast's living status Tony?"

He gritted his teeth as a porter forced the towering beast to its knees and fought off a shiver of foreboding. "If I am not mistaken," he grumbled, "it is the year 1880. Why does this blasted country not have a rail system?"

"Because the Egyptians believe trains are demons set on the destruction of their river lands and the tombs they so cherish," said a soft woman's voice from behind him and he turned to see Pepper and Peggy returning from their quick tour of the _Helvetica_. Pepper was smiling slightly, her blue eyes sparkling as she watched him hesitate at his ungainly steed's side and she took a step forward.

"Let me," she said to the porter, who bowed and backed away a step.

Only Peggy noticed the displeased expression on Rumiko Fujikawa's face as Pepper showed Stark the correct way to mount and sit a camel.

He climbed on with far greater aplomb than could have been expected.

Pepper smiled and nodded before turning to find her own camel; she paused when Peggy, now atop her own light-haired camel, asked if she would like to ride with her and Rumiko and nodded. "It would be my pleasure, Miss Carter," she murmured. She couldn't help shivering at the furious glare Madam Fujikawa shot her from under her parasol.

As she walked away she did not miss the Oriental woman muttering to the other girl, “Why do you insist on wearing such horrendous clothes, Margaret? You are not a man. Did that woman tell you you should wear such disgusting pants?”

Pepper’s lips twitched as Peggy snapped, “They’re not disgusting Ru. And they’re my pants and if Miss Potts can wear pants then I say I can too.”

She shook her head and hurried away before she could hear the rest of the argument between the two women.

She didn’t envy Peggy Carter at all.

Stark watched as she made her way to her camel waiting beside the Captain's; his eyes narrowed as the man helped her onto the beast's back and he couldn't help a jealous little shiver from darting up his spine at the sight of her laughing with the man.

 _Get a grip Stark_ , he snarled to himself as the Lieutenant’s camel sidled up to him. _Keep your hands and thoughts to yourself._

Blast, it was going to be hard though.

Pepper felt Dr. Stark’s considering gaze on her as she settled more comfortably atop her camel. She wondered why he watched her so carefully. Not finding any answers she sighed and waved goodbye to her guardians whom she had said farewell to before exploring the ship currently being lowered steady inch by steady inch behind them; then she made her way towards the head of the caravan; the Captain dropped back to the end of the line. He would keep the vanguard in order until they set off.

Finally they were all assembled.

Bruce Banner rode in the vanguard, his dark eyes watchful as he kept an eye on the wagon full of his and Stark's scientific equipment. No one thought any of this; after all, only two people in this company knew of his dark secret. He would take great care with the crated tools because should anything go wrong with his experiments and the equipment became damaged then they were all truly doomed.

His eyes flashed dangerously at the thought.

In front of Banner were the ladies with their sullen guardian Sergeant Barnes. He sat his camel at ease and idly toyed with the gears of his arms as he waited for their team to gather. He did not speak to either lady, despite Peggy's gentle nudging.

Next came Clint Barton. His feet were propped on the head of his camel, who took this treatment in stride, simply chewing its cud and occasionally flicking his tail in irritation as Barton hummed a bawdy song under his breath. His blue eyes were shadowed as he kept an eye on all who wandered the docks; he may seem at ease, but it was all an act. Only those who neared him could see the closeness of his hand to his holstered bow.

Clint Barton took his job of protecting Stark very seriously. Except for maybe when he ran across old friends at a poker game and was offered a beer or two. Or five.

Finally Dr. Anthony Stark and Lieutenant James Logan waited at the head of their team. Stark's eyes were narrowed as he watched his airship being lowered; he yearned to oversee its care and storage but ultimately he could not. He trusted Sam Wilson to care for the ship. There was nothing he could do here at the docks but wait now.

Logan was smoking thoughtfully, his eyes also cast behind him but he did not watch the docking of the _Helvetica_. Instead he was tracking the movements of another lighter-than-air ship.

"Here they come," he growled as Pepper drew level with them. She was draped across her camel like one who had grown up amongst the beasts and Stark found himself admiring her easy stance in the high saddle.

Subtly, he tried to mimic her stance.

Pepper glanced over shoulder and frowned. "I would think Hammer would wish to face you in person before taking off Dr. Stark," she mused as she too watched the _Lady Beatrice_ 's rotors begin to spin and churn.

Stark glanced at the ship and snorted. "Knew he wouldn't. He's probably thinking of cheating somehow." He reached up and shoved his hat off his brow so he could get a better look at the ship and shook his head. "No, Hammer's scared now. He won't face me because in his heart-of-hearts he believes I have an advantage. He doesn't want me to realize that."

He met Pepper's gaze and saw the guilt of what she'd caused once more flash in her eyes. Before he could reassure her though, the sun finally peeked over the horizon.

As the first rays of the sun touched the still, green waters of the Nile an amplified voice bellowed from above their heads:

“Good luck Anthony! Keep that pesky heart of yours ticking! I want to see the defeat in your eyes when you get to Saqqara and see the _Lady Beatrice_ waiting for you! Enjoy your camel!”

Stark didn’t hear anything past his name; the moment Hammer’s voice had assaulted them, he’d taken off, his camel snorting and rolling beneath his ass as they pounded through the streets of Cairo and out into the desert.

Despite himself, he laughed as they left the confines of the city.

Far behind them the _Lady Beatrice_ struggled to pick up speed, her mighty propeller grinding and groaning as it churned in the humid Egyptian air. He chuckled wryly at the thought of Justin Hammer and his progeny shrieking through the ship’s communication systems to their captain as the boat wallowed in the air. He wished he could be there to see it.

A frazzled Justin Hammer was a hilarious Justin Hammer.

As his team settled into a steady pace, Anthony Stark leaned back in his saddle and glanced over his shoulder at the fiercely grinning woman riding beside him.

“Maybe this won’t be so bad Pepper,” he murmured as her head turned in his direction.

He only smiled at as she laughed, her head thrown back on her shoulders revealing the slender length of her pale throat and he shivered.

 _Yes_ , he mused as his body adjusted to the long-legged rolling gate of his camel. _Maybe this little adventure of his wouldn’t be so bad, after all._

Beneath the soft cotton of his shirt, the gears of his heart continued their steady spin, oblivious as only metal can be, of their close proximity to doom.


	8. The First Camp

Despite himself, Dr. Anthony Stark was enjoying this little jaunt.

Of course they were riding the river roads just for the first day. Once they got a little further south of Cairo they would have to strike out into the western sands. So Stark was taking the time to enjoy these lovely roads.

He’d learned, while lounging about the Orange House waiting for his team to gather, that the cities surrounding Cairo had decided they were tired of wagons and horses getting mired in alluvial mud and sands so their genius engineers had created a roads system that surrounded Cairo.

Even Stark had to admit the raised straw-brick roads were fairly impressive.

Not that he would admit that to anyone.

“However did they create such an extensive interstate Miss Potts?” he asked his assistant who was currently lounged atop her camel as if she were sitting in her guardians’ sweetly appointed parlor sipping tea and eating crumpets. He couldn’t help the appreciative little smile at the sight of her leather clad legs twisted beneath her.

Pepper glanced up from the book she was purveying and he jumped as the goggles over her eyes darkened with a tiny whir of gears. He frowned but before he could ask about the unusual device shielding her eyes from the intense Egyptian sunlight she answered his question.

“In the ways of the ancients Dr. Stark,” she murmured as she turned her gaze to the twisting roads before and behind them. At his confused glance she smiled and shifted in her saddle, placing her book back in her leather satchel currently draped across the hammer. “When the Nile waters retreated in the winter of 1870,” she said, “the engineers of Cairo and Alexandria came together and studied the ancient’s methods for raising roads. After several years of trial and error this,” she gestured around them with a small, proud smile, “was born.”

“The ancient’s?” Stark asked, disbelief in his tone. He couldn’t help scoffing at the thought of men of impossible intellect bending over books written on papyrus in a language that could only be described as pictures. It was so…quaint.

Pepper was quiet for a moment, her eyes shadowed from behind her mother’s goggles and then she asked, her voice mildly curious, “You think that was backwards, Dr. Stark? That something that is over four thousand years old could never measure up to the modern mechanics you and your like proclaim are the best for mankind?”

Stark stilled, his eyes narrowing behind his own dark lenses as he heard the challenge in her voice.

He should tread carefully with this; it felt like a trap to him.

He cast his eyes around, absently noting the location of all of his team, most of whom had paired off throughout the day. Already friendships were being made and he couldn’t help noting his cousin riding beside the good Captain Rogers with Rumiko just behind them speaking to her sullen escort Sergeant Barnes. A small smile tightened his lips and he turned back to Pepper, who had been watching him thoughtfully, her face a stoic mask under the edge of her burnouse.

“What did you mean by my ‘like,’ madam?” he asked, his voice calm, despite the growing irritation this conversation was causing him.

She turned forward and leaned back in her saddle, a tiny smirk on her lips. “Why the futurists, of course.” She glanced at him and seeing his bewildered expression, chuckled. “Dr. Stark,” she said as she turned to him, “you are a man of great intelligence. For years you and your family created weapons of insurmountable power. Some say you were the reason the North won that bloody Civil War fifteen years ago. And now you claim you are on the road to peace; you create devices of stunning mechanical genius that indeed have eased the way of life for hundreds of people around the America’s and Britain. You have even managed to create impossible mech for your own livelihood.” She glanced at his chest and he shifted in his saddle; before he could respond, she cocked her head, letting the sun warm her face and Stark found himself gazing at the line of freckles dotting her cheeks and nose.

He’d never noticed them before.

He jumped when she continued, her voice thoughtful. “The engineers of America, Britain and the Orient each claim they know what is best for our future, and perhaps they do.” She glanced at him once more, noting the satisfied smile on his lips and she shook her head. “But tell me, Dr. Stark, how would you have made the roads of Egypt? What would you have done differently than the native engineers of this ancient land?”

And here was the test.

He could hear it in her tone and he knew he should capitulate.

But Anthony Stark had never been able to resist a question of such challenge. Especially about such a trivial matter as a road.

Turning his gaze back to the red-brown bricks stretching before and to the side of them his mind ran calculations absently.

The bricks were about a handspan in length, nearly two in width. There were exactly ten rows of the perfectly shaped and spaced bricks and by the sound the oxen’s cloven hooves made on the surface, they had been twice-baked and were now impossibly hard.

It really was quite genius.

But there were other ways to do this.

Of course there were.

Leaning back in his saddle he fiddled with the soft cotton scarf at his throat and glanced at the sun. It was nearly noon.

Logan had said they would stop at the sun’s zenith and wait out the heat of the day. Apparently, soon they would only be able to travel at night since the summer solstice approached. Soon the days would be unbearably hot.

Not that Stark minded.

He was always at his best once the sun set.

“They waited till after the spring floods, yes? To raise the road,” he mused as he glanced at the river currently twisting to their left. The water ran counter to them, one of the great mysteries of the world and he longed to splash his toes in its cool green depths.

“They did,” Pepper said with a small smile. She knew where his mind was going with that question.

Stark nodded. “Why did they not dam the river instead? They could have created a reservoir of astounding depth. It could have provided more electricity and fresh water than the river currently holds.” She did not respond, only fiddled with the watch chain draped across her waist. He continued, suddenly confident in her silence. “Yes, dam the river and build the roads using stone, not mud and straw. Then they would not have to raise them and they would not have to worry about flooding.”

He nodded, satisfied, but he froze when she started to laugh.

It was a soft, beautiful sound and possibly mocking but he did not notice; all he noticed was the way her cheeks warmed with the sound and the stretch of her neck as she threw her head back, the ends of her scarf trailing down her shoulders as she did so.

He cringed. “Whatever are you laughing at Miss Potts?” he groused as her laugh petered off.

“Sir,” she said as she turned back to him, “how high is the road?”

He frowned, “High?”

She nodded and twisted her right leg underneath her. “How high? And when you have calculated that in your brilliant mind, tell me how the Egyptians survive in such a desolate land.”

She fell silent and watched him patiently as he cast his eyes to the edge of the road; he knew the road was raised by carved stone piers. The height though was tricky to determine from the saddle. He swayed for a moment, his body rocking with his camel’s loping steps and he steered the great beast closer to the edge of the road so he could lean out of the saddle to gaze at the castings.

His eyes narrowed and he turned back to his lovely assistant who was still smirking, her eyes sparkling from behind the black lenses of her goggles.

“The road is a meter high,” he mused as he arrived back at her side.

“Very good,” she said as she stretched her hand behind her to the pack strapped to her camel’s back. She removed a canteen and took a sip of water before asking, “Did you think of the second half of my question?”

Stark opened his mouth to answer but at that moment a horn blast from up ahead caught all of their attention.

Captain Rogers suddenly appeared on the other side of Pepper, his camel snorting grumpily and he shaded his eyes under his wide brimmed cavalry hat. “Logan’s found a well,” he said, his voice satisfied. “We found our first resting spot.” Glancing at Stark he smiled. “Congratulations sir, you made it through the first half of your first day in the desert.” And then he was off, his body rocking smoothly with his camel’s long stride.

Stark sighed and glanced at the young woman at his side. “He is not improving the prospects of this journey,” he grumbled as the young woman flicked her tasseled crop upon the withers of her camel.

Her soft laugh drifted over him as her camel picked up pace as well, heading off in the direction of the two SHIELD soldiers.

He shook his head and tried to maintain his poise as his camel rocked off. “Somehow I feel like SHIELD gave me an uneven steed,” he grumbled as his spine jiggered and shook. He dreaded to think of how much clockwork would be scratched and dinged after this particular stretch.

* * *

Their first camp was a lovely spot tucked in a smooth curve of the Nile. When Stark dismounted he couldn’t help a little contented sigh from escaping his lips at the sight of swooping palm trees shading the river and the well Logan had found.

The querulous Lieutenant made sure to disillusion him of all expectations that every camp would be this pleasant.

“This is just a waystation for the people traveling up the river to Cairo,” he growled as he adjusted his claws. His dark eyes sparkled dangerously as he scanned the roads stretching before and behind them and then he turned his eyes to the sky. “You won’t find many places like this Stark, not after today.”

Stark watched him prowl off and then he glanced around him and saw Rumiko and Peggy stretching after dismounting from their camels. Sighing, he headed in their directions.

“Afternoon ladies,” he said as he tipped his fingers against his hat. He gazed thoughtfully at Rumiko, whose face was scrunched in a disgusted scowl. “How were your humped steeds?”

Peggy snorted and rotated her torso carefully; all three winced at the resulting pops that issued from her spine. “Why in the world we couldn’t take a houseboat, I will never understand Tony,” she sighed as she sagged to the ground; she kneaded her thighs carefully and cringed as her muscles cramped. Riding a camel was so much worse than riding one of Tony and Maya’s autonmech.

Rumiko sniffed at the sight of her young companion sprawled in the sand and Stark’s lips twitched in a small smile. “You know why we couldn’t Peg, you’re just grumpy because you haven’t had luncheon yet.” He glanced around and smiled when he spotted his bodyguard and closest friend arguing with a porter and Sergeant Barnes. All four were standing over a pot and several crates of supplies. “It looks as if Bruce and Barton have taken that in hand. At least we know we’ll eat well this trip; if Captain Rogers and his team had anything to do with it, we’d be eating hardtack and jerky.” He turned back to the women and held his arm out, “May I escort you to the well, madam?” he asked his fiancée, his voice only a little stiff.

She gazed thoughtfully at him, her dark eyes glinting in the bright sunlight and then she nodded, “Of course Anthony. That is your duty after all.”

He winced and sighed as she slid her arm through his. “I’m sorry Ru,” he muttered as he led her away. “I was simply discussing logistics with Miss Potts. She is my assistant and partner in this venture after all.”

Rumiko scoffed. “I saw you Anthony. Be careful, my love, lest you forget who bears your ring.”

He was silent as his eyes caught sight of the tiny golden band on her finger; the heart diamond set within its dainty claws glinted in the bright sunlight and he tried to ignore the sudden tightening of his neck scarf at the sight of gold and gem. That ring clung to her finger until the contract that bound Fujikawa to Stark was fulfilled or unless something befell either of them and it would never leave her finger.

They were bound to each other, and not just in words.

“I will ride with you this afternoon Ru,” he murmured as they neared the well.

She glanced at him as he accepted a dipper of water from Captain Rogers and he shivered at the cold smile on her lips. “No need Tony,” she said as she took a sip of water from the dipper he offered her. “I shall ride with Miss Potts this evening.”

He opened his mouth to dissuade her but found his words had failed him.

The thought of Rumiko and Pepper suddenly intrigued him.

Two headstrong women of stunning intelligence arguing subtly while atop swaying camels?

How intriguing indeed.

“That is a wonderful idea Ru!” he said as he grabbed her hand familiarly and led her towards where Barton and Banner had set up a kit to make a quick luncheon. “You ladies must stick together after all, while us men dig up buried treasure!”

He didn’t see the stony glare his betrothed shot him at that.

* * *

“May I sit with you Lieutenant?”

Logan glanced up at the sound of Pepper Potts’ voice and couldn’t help a small smile from twisting across his lips. “Too icy over by the porcelain doll Miss Potts?” he asked as he ran a wetting stone over a shining edge of a claw.

She settled beside him on a canvas sling chair one of the porters had seen to set out at the side of the Lieutenant and sighed. “She is rather cold, isn’t she,” she mused as she glanced over her shoulder at the tiny crowd gathered around Dr. Stark under the canvas pavilion the porters had set up.

Rumiko Fujikawa, still in her silk kimono but now sans most of her face powder, was seated beside Stark and as far as Pepper had noted, she had not spoken a single word to anyone, including her fiancé.

Logan snorted and studied the claw before clicking it back in place. He watched her for a moment, his eyes shadowed under the brim of his hat and she shivered.

While she had known all three of these soldiers for several years now, she had never gotten terribly close to James ‘Wolverine’ Logan. He was far too intimidating and standoffish. She much preferred the cheerful Captain and the sardonic Sergeant.

Logan leaned back in his chair, his fingers rummaging in the inner coat pocket of his khaki jacket and he sighed as he removed a cigar and a book of matches. Pepper's lips quirked as he lit the thick cigar and drew heavily upon the sweetly poignant smoke.

"What were you and Stark talking about, Miss Potts?" he asked, his sharp eyes muddled through the cloud of smoke rising before him. "You seemed very intent upon each other when you neared camp."

Pepper shifted, her cheeks warming and she couldn't help laughing at herself for her idiotic discomfort. "Oh, I was simply educating him on the ways of Egyptian road making," she said with a little laugh as she pulled apart a piece of bread and balled the soft insides between her fingers. She glanced at Logan and seeing his amused expression, smiled. "He thought it would be best to dam the river."

He stared at her, completely shocked and then he started to laugh; Pepper jumped, her eyes widening. This was entirely too bizarre. The man was...laughing.

"Who died?" said a voice from behind Pepper. She jumped once more and dragged her eyes away from the terrifying vista of the Wolverine bent double in his chair, chortling, and met Sergeant Barnes' gaze.

"'Died,' Sergeant?" she asked, her voice distracted as she watched Logan from the corner of her eye. Barnes and Rogers were watching him as well, mild expressions of curiosity and humor on their faces.

"Well, yeah," Barnes said as he collapsed in a sling chair he set up across from Pepper and the still snorting Logan. "The only time I see Wolverine laugh is when he's slid a claw into somebody's gut. It's terrifying." He shivered, dark humor in his gaze and his arm whirred as he lifted a fork laden with honeydew and mangos to his lips.

Rogers sighed and sat on her opposite side, his legs stretching out before him to cross at the ankles. He set his shield down and all within their little circle felt their teeth clash together as dull vibrations rocked up the legs of their chairs.

None really knew of what that shield was made of; no one but the Captain and Howard Stark, of course. All anyone knew was its special composition gave the Captain an added edge in battle. When your very bones felt like they were on the verge of shivering to pieces just from brushing up against that unusual silver metal, battles between Captain Steve Rogers were always short-lived.

"Better tell us what happened Virginia," he mused as he watched the now red-faced Lietenant sag against the back of his chair. "Otherwise Logan may have the vapors."

Barnes snorted. "I've got smelling salts in my pack since I'm in charge of the ladies. I'm sure I could find them in time before Logan keels over dead."

Pepper sighed and fiddled with her fruit salad. "I simply told him of Dr. Stark's belief that damming the Nile would have been the best for the Egyptians," she said quietly, her cheeks now dark red. She hoped Dr. Stark wouldn't look over and see her companion's dissolve in dark humor.

That would be...uncomfortable.

Barnes snorted at her words and then choked on a piece of honeydew. "He what?!" he exclaimed as he spat his piece of melon back onto his tin plate. "Dam the _river_?!" He snickered and then started to laugh, his face buried in his clockwork hand.

Logan, having calmed during her explanation, saw the Sergeant's mirth and once more started to laugh, his shoulders heaving breathlessly. "Gods," he swore between chortles, “it's brilliant. We should write to the Engineers of Honor. I’m sure they’ll love this."

Rogers' eyes were narrowed and his lips were pinched; Pepper flinched and opened her mouth to try and change the subject when suddenly the Captain began to laugh as well, his light blue eyes streaming as he threw his head back and snorted.

She sighed. She should never have mentioned this. Now the men would heckle Stark about the Nile and dams for the remainder of their journey. And she would be to blame...

"I believe I've missed a particularly funny joke," said a voice from behind her.

Pepper's back stiffened and she flinched, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt the color drain from her cheeks.

The soldier's froze, their laughter trailing away as they all glanced around at the newcomer standing behind Pepper Potts and then Barnes started snickering once more. Rogers tried to regain some of his stoicism, but seeing Stark's mildly curious expression, Madam Fujikawa's dangerously glinting eyes and Miss Potts pale cheeks and hunched shoulders, he simply couldn't maintain his control.

Stark's eyes widened as he watched the usually calm Captain sag into his chair, his big hand clapped over his eyes as he laughed.

"Miss Potts," he snapped, his voice loud over the three soldiers' laughter, "what is the meaning of this? Is there egg in my goatee?"

Pepper's lip disappeared between her teeth and she shook her head. "No sir," she whispered, her cheeks pinking as Logan turned in his direction.

"Thinking of damming any rivers today Stark?" he growled from around his much shortened cigar. His dark eyes glowed evilly and Stark's own narrowed.

"Dam? Whatever..." his eyes settled on his flushed assistant and he folded his arms over the whir and tick of his chest. "I see," he said slowly. Then, to everyone's surprise, including his betrothed's, he pulled up a chair and crossed his legs, an attentive expression on his face as he turned to Pepper. "Do enlighten me, Miss Potts. Why is damming the Nile so preposterous?"

"Why is it so 'preposterous,' Stark?" growled Logan as he leaned back in his chair and unsheathed his claws. The quiet _snick_ was subtle in the bright afternoon sunlight and he smiled as he once more resumed sharpening their edges. "How do you expect any farming gets done in this god-forsaken country?"

Stark hesitated as his dark blue eyes flicked to the sandy shores of the Nile and he sucked his teeth. Suddenly he remembered reading something during University about the Nile and the farming methods used along its stretches.

"Ah," he breathed, an appreciative gleam in his eyes. "The floods. They deposit enough alluvial mud every spring so the farmers can plant and irrigate." He turned back to the soldiers and his still red faced assistant and asked, "So why the meter grade for the road?"

Rogers spoke up, much calmer now that his mirth had run its course, "A meter is the highest recorded flood depth. The engineers believed raising the road to this height would keep it intact for far longer than any other proposed plan." He shrugged as he stood, "It's not so far-fetched, really. The ancients did it when Memphis was the capitol and not Cairo." He clapped Stark on the shoulder, ignoring the man's wince and smiled. "Don't worry Stark, you'll get the hang of this country eventually. It always takes certain individuals longer than others."

Stark's eyes narrowed as he watched the blonde Captain swing his shield across his shoulders and when the man held his hand out for Pepper Potts to escort her in the direction of the camels, he grumbled, "I do believe he insulted me. Did you hear that Ru? I think I was just taken down a peg by Captain America."

His eyes followed the retreating Captain and his assistant for a moment but the slight tightening of Rumiko’s fingers on his shoulder called his attention back to his companions.

Barnes stared at Stark for a moment and then snorted. "'Captain America'?" he asked, humor and disbelief making his dark eyes glow. "Tell me you're not talking about Steve."

Stark leaned back in his chair and smiled wryly at Rumiko, "Actually I am. Your Captain is very noble and with that star and stripe graffiti on his shield I say it's more of a surprise he hasn't been given a nickname before this. So Captain America he is for the duration of this journey." His smile turned smug and Rumiko's eyes rolled in disgust.

She was not amused.

Logan and Barnes were though.

"That's not going to go over well," the Lieutenant growled as he retracted each claw one by one into the leather sheaths of his right gauntlet, checking to make sure no sand had gotten in amongst the geared hydraulics. "Better watch it, bub, you might find that shield between your teeth and a booted foot in your gut."

Stark shifted and flapped his hand. "Nonsense, I'm paying you men on top of your SHIELD salaries. It's in your interest to make sure no shields smash in my teeth."

Logan's eyebrow quirked and he glanced over Stark's shoulder. "You think he's here for the money?" he asked, his voice actually gentle as an absent smile of affection flitted across his lips at the sight of whatever was occurring over Stark's shoulder.

Stark turned, just in time to see the noble Captain Rogers bend to plant a tender kiss on Pepper Potts lips and he felt his heart wrench painfully at the sight.

His head snapped forward and his voice was rough as he said, "Well, I think I want to take a walk about this little oasis before we mount up once more."

He stood and prowled away from the two soldiers and his betrothed, who watched him with careful calculation in her gaze, his back stiff and his eyes blazing.

The image of the towering blonde Captain holding his very lovely assistant was emblazoned upon his mind and his lips twisted in a snarl as he stormed over the smooth bricks of the river road. He did not hear Logan’s bellow that they would be debarking in an hour, nor did he see where they paced.

All he saw was Pepper Potts' hands on the Captain's chest and the man's lips on hers.

The gears of his heart churned quickly with the increase of his heart's pumping but he barely noticed the wrenching pain.

It wasn't betrayal that made his chest ache.

It was simply the sand.

Just the sand...

* * *

“Captain, please,” Pepper murmured as she pulled away from the Captain’s clutch. “This is not proper.”

Rogers’ hands fell from her arms and he frowned. “Virginia-“ he said, his voice pleading but she stopped him, her expression pained as she remembered his proposal a year ago. He had come to her one night after spending his leave debauching with Sergeant Barnes and some other men of their unit and his confidence had been bolstered by the strong beer the men had consumed.

He had called on her while her aunt and uncle were in England teaching at Oxford and she had been alone. When she opened the door at a rather late hour to find a swaying Captain Rogers on her doorstep she had taken action, not even pondering what repercussions those actions would have.

She had had no idea of his feelings for her as she led him to the parlor and called for the maid to assist her.

By the end of the night, though, she had been educated as to his intentions and even now the memory of him falling to his knee before her and brandishing his mother’s ring as he slurred a semi-intelligible proposal caused her to blush and squirm in discomfort.

Sometimes she lay awake at night wondering why she had denied him.

He was quite the catch, according to her guardians; so why the hesitation?

A part of her had felt as if something else was out there for her, that waiting for the right moment and the right ring would bring her the happiness she so desired.

So she had denied the noble Captain and their friendship had been strained ever since.

And now she was on an archeological expedition with the man.

How…preposterous.

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “No, please don’t sir. We do not need to relive such an uncomfortable moment; I consider you a friend but if you insist on betraying my trust like this then I am afraid I may have to rescind on our friendship,” she said sadly as she turned to her sandy haired camel and began searching her saddle bags for her journal. Her skin prickled as the Captain approached her and she sighed when his fingers rested tentatively on her elbow.

“Virginia,” he said, his voice agonized. “Don’t you understand how I feel about you?”

She turned to face him, a tiny, pained smile on her lips and she said, “I do Captain but this has not changed how I feel about you.” Her hand rose to pat his cheek and his eyes fluttered closed as he ducked his head against her gloved palm. “You are my friend Captain, no more than that, please respect my desires.”

He caught her hand as she turned to go and he muttered as he pulled her closer to him, “Marriages have been built on less than friendship Virginia. You may grow to love me.” He paused as her eyes widened in horrified anger and he shrugged, “After all, most ladies of your age and rank are already married; shouldn’t you think of your options?”

Her mouth popped open at that and her eyes blazed furiously. “How dare you?” she hissed as she yanked her hand from his. “That was despicable Captain! Either the heat has gotten the better of you or you have been slumming about the dregs of Cairo for too long!” Her nose flared as she took a step closer to him; he was pale, his own eyes wide as he took in her fury. Alarm bells began to clang in the back of his head and for a brief moment he contemplated swinging his shield forward to stand between himself and the suddenly furious Virginia Potts.

“Virginia, I-“ he began but his words were cut off by her slap; her open palm caught him across the cheek and his head rocked back at the loud report of her leather glove on his skin and he hissed between his teeth.

Through suddenly tearing eyes he watched as she turned to go. Before she had taken a step she turned back and shoved against his chest. “Never talk to me again Rogers!” she snarled, her voice harsh in the still Egyptian air. “You disgust me and until you realize the errors of your ways I never want to hear your voice again.” As she stormed away she snapped over her shoulder, “And my name is not Virginia! It’s Pepper!”

Rogers’ cheeks were red, the left a far more violent color than the right as he watched her prowl off in the direction of the reed strewn banks of the Nile and he cleared his throat as he noticed most of the camp watching him.

It seemed their little altercation had been witnessed by all of their companions.

“Wonderful,” he grumbled as he headed for the wagons at the end of the line.

At least Stark hadn’t been present.

That would have been uncomfortable.

* * *

Stark’s fury had calmed by the time he neared a small cluster of reeds gathered at the shallowest section of the Nile they rested at. He had walked until his heart had calmed and the gears in his chest no longer ground and churned with the heightened speed of his blood.

He was calm now, controlled.

He was no longer fixated on his lovely red-headed assistant and the noble Captain.

Although, the occasional thought of the man’s lips on hers did make his skin crawl unpleasantly.

“Stop it Stark,” he muttered as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his soft cotton pants. “She’s not yours to moon over-“

He paused, his steps stuttering to a halt as he heard a woman’s soft voice sobbing from amongst the reeds.

 _Hello_ , he thought, _if that’s Peg, I’m going to have to write to her mother…_

He brushed some of the reeds aside, being careful to not run his fingers too closely along their knife-like edges and he craned around to see who cried on the banks of the Nile.

He froze when he finally spotted the girl sitting on a flat boulder which jutted out over the placid green waters of the river, her long legs submerged up to the knees in the depths and he gasped, “Pepper!”

She stiffened as he rushed through the reeds to her side and muttered as she ducked her head, “Go away, please, I don’t think I can handle any teasing right now.”

He could see the tears on her cheeks and the red rims of her eyes. She’d been crying quite forcefully he realized and something rather like an angry bear roared in the back of his head at the thought of whatever had caused these tears.

_If someone had hurt her…_

“Mind if I share your rock and dabble my hairy toes in that little pool of yours?” he asked, his voice jaunty and light, despite the cold fury making his heart pound dangerously hard within his chest.

She hesitated, glanced at him in surprise and then nodded when he smiled brightly. She shivered at the dark emotion in his eyes but some small part of her longed for his company.

_She’d never been so hurt…_

Stark slipped out of his boots and bent to roll the legs of his dark brown cotton pants. “I always wanted to do this,” he confided as he plopped beside her, sitting much too close for propriety but neither noticed nor cared. “But my mother always told me that there were piranhas in these waters.”

His lips twitched as she gasped and then laughed. “Piranhas? There aren’t any piranhas in the Nile! They’re only found in the Amazon!” she exclaimed as his fingers brushed against hers on the boulder.

He glanced over, his smile growing as he saw that her tears had slowed and her eyes actually glowed with humor and not distress. “Oh I know,” he said as he leaned back on his elbows and turned his face to the bright sun above them. “But my mother was not the most aware of women. To her, any mighty body of water contained flesh eating fish and she was certain if I even walked their shores I would be found and returned to her as nothing but a pile of bones.”

They fell silent and Pepper turned her gaze to the waters washing over her feet. Stark watched her through his eyelashes and wondered if she would tell him what had upset her if he asked. He shook his head and decided to wait and see if she would confide in him of her own free will.

Somehow, the thought of forcing her to confide in him felt like a betrayal.

Finally she heaved a giant sigh and began gathering her hair back into a tight bun at the top of her skull. “I should go, Logan will need help with the maps,” she murmured, avoiding his gaze. She made quick work of the handful of pins sitting in her burnouse and he couldn’t help admiring the ease at which she wrapped the scarf.

He would never be able to do that, no matter how many times he attempted the complicated twists and winds.

It was something she had been born into, he suspected. This entire venture was as natural for Virginia ‘Pepper’ Potts as mechanical maneuvering was for him.

He admired that.

Stark sat up when she stood and he couldn’t help his eyes drifting down her dripping calves to gaze at her delicate ankles. “Pepper, he’s not worth it,” he said. “If he makes you cry, then he’s not the right man for you.”

She hesitated, in the process of straightening her slacks and glanced at him, a small frown on her face. “Excuse me?” she asked as she shook out her ankle and turned to face him.

He hesitated and then shrugged one shoulder. “I saw you with Captain Rogers,” he said slowly, his eyes shadowed and calculating as he watched the play of emotion on her face. “I suspect he upset you and I just wanted to tell you that he’s an ass and you don’t need him.”

Her light blue eyes were wide as she stared at him and then she smiled. “Well, thank you Dr. Stark,” she said, her voice only slightly sarcastic. “Thank you ever so much for the input, but if you must know I was just telling him the same thing.”

And then she turned to make her way back to their afternoon camp.

With her back turned to him she did not see the suddenly bright smile flash across his lips or hear the soft laugh the slipped his lips.

If she had…

She probably would have slapped him too.

Stark watched her leave, his mind spinning over her words and he couldn’t help a small flicker of hope, ridiculous as it may be, from growing in his chest.

She had turned the noble Captain down.

Why did that make him so happy?

Before he could think much harder on this, there was a deep bellow of a horn and Logan and Barnes were shouting, “Mount up! Assemble and mount up!”

Stark arrived at his camel a few moments later, his hat slouched over his eyes, his waistcoat unbuttoned, his coat draped over his arm and his hands shoved in his pockets.

He nodded a greeting to his assistant currently chatting with his cousin and fiancée, winked at Bruce Banner who was sitting his camel much too close to Clint Barton for propriety and said to the ever smoking Lieutenant Logan, “Sorry, I found a lovely little pool by the reeds and rather lost track of time while dabbling my toes in the water.”

Logan’s eyes were dark under the brim of his cavalry hat and he grunted. “Holding up the line Stark. Just get on the camel, we have to get back on the road. Hammer’s been spotted over Beni Suef.”

Stark scrabbled atop his camel and hid a wince as the great beast levered itself to its feet. “Right,” he grumbled. “Camels. Whoever agreed to this was a madman.”

Logan grunted again and glanced at him from the corner of his eyes as he waved for the line to start off. “Wonder who that could have been? Wouldn’t be you now, would it bub?” He leaned over in the saddle as his camel started loping off and spat. “Well, whoever it was, it was probably the one person crazy enough to ‘dabble his toes’ in the crocodile infested Nile.”

And with that he was off, his camel’s strides lengthening as he flicked his crop and Stark stared after him, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Oh I did forget to mention that,” said a woman’s voice behind him.

Stark turned just in time to see Pepper and Peggy peel off, their bodies rocking smoothly with their camels’ movements and he couldn’t help a small smile from lifting his lips at the sound of his young cousin’s laughter.

“Mad,” snapped Rumiko, her mouth a thin line of displeasure.

Stark couldn’t help agreeing with her.

This whole venture of his was mad.

And it would only get madder.


	9. Compromises Are Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's a long one! 
> 
> Sorry I haven't updated lately! 
> 
> I hope you like this one. It's kind of fluffy but I promise the action will start soon! 
> 
> Happy holidays!
> 
> -M

Rumiko Fujikawa was the first to almost fall off her camel.

They had been riding for hours, spurring their camels and their supply train on, despite the exhaustion all felt as the sun began to set. The thought of Lord Justin Hammer almost fifty kilometers ahead of them gave them the energy they needed to push through to their first camp.

SHIELD's soldiers ranged along Stark's team, their eyes constantly scanning the skies and the sands surrounding them for any sign of trouble; all were unsure what Hammer and his team would do if they caught them up. Stark and the Captain were certain Hammer would take action against them eventually.

Especially if Stark’s team managed to pull ahead in this impossible race.

Night was coming. But Stark pushed them, his face set in a grim snarl as he hunched over his camel’s stretching neck. He would not stop until they reached Beni Suef; so as the moon rose over the eastern horizon and the sun's orange glow faded, they rode.

When they galloped through Beni Suef’s center street, scattering citizen’s and stray dogs as they went, the moon was overhead and the sands had begun to cool. But they did not stop. Stark did not even pause to look at the one inn in town. He rode blindly on, despite his team’s protests.

 _This will kill us_ , Pepper Potts thought as her arms burned with keeping her camel reined in. _We cannot hope to maintain this pace for long_.

But they did. For five hours they rode, silent and fierce and grim under the Egyptian moon.

They had passed Al Sadar, the last village between Beni Suef and Asyut. They were well and truly deep in the desert now. Tomorrow they would have to strike west. If they made it to the dawn…

Pepper, exhausted beyond belief, glanced to her left sometime around midnight and her heart froze as she saw Rumiko's limp body begin to sag towards the side of her camel. Peggy Carter’s camel was huffing and churning along beside Rumiko’s but Pepper did not think the young woman was entirely aware.

They had been riding for too long.

“Peggy!” she snapped as she urged her camel closer to Rumiko’s steed. “Help me!”

Her voice was harsh, the only noise their team had made for hours. But Stark’s young cousin did not react. Pepper glanced around, hoping one of the men was near, but all were lost in the blowing sand whipped up by their train. Gritting her teeth, she looped her camel’s reins around her leg, an old trick Henry Pym had taught her on the first dig she had undergone with her guardians, and threw her hands out, just in time to snatch at Tony Stark’s fiancée’s silk dress.

 _As long as your steed’s head is held upright, my girl_ , he’d said, _you’re hands are free to do as they please._

 _Please let me not drop her_ , she prayed as she felt the dress’s fabric begin to tear in her hands.

Rumiko was slipping, her head lolling across her shoulders, her body limp as a rag dolls in the saddle. Pepper hissed as the silk slid through her fingers and she knew, knew that if Peggy did not stir, then Rumiko would fall beneath their camel’s feet and risk a trampling.

And it would be Pepper’s fault.

“Margaret!” she shouted as she half stood in her stirrups, her arms stretching even further as Rumiko’s left leg slid free of the saddle. “Rumiko is falling!”

But the young woman was as lost as Stark’s fiancée.

Just as Pepper thought she would lose the heir of the Fujikawa dynasty and Anthony Stark’s betrothed, and on the first day of their adventure to boot, a dark furred camel came looming out of the darkness and his rider scooped up the falling woman.

Pepper caught sight of a glowing cigar butt just before Rumiko’s savior urged his steed on and she sagged into her saddle with a sigh, as Lieutenant Logan snapped, “I’ve got her Potts!” She only nodded in response and barely registered Captain Rogers scooping up Peggy Carter as well, just before the girl herself slid from her high backed saddle, the shield at his back glinting in the moonlight as he rode for the head of the train. She was exhausted, the sudden absence of that short spurt of adrenaline leaving her limbs deadened and she groaned as she once more took up the reins wrapped around her ankle.

“This is mad,” she whispered.

“Are you well, Miss Potts?” said a soft voice and she turned to see Dr. Banner draw level with her camel.

She smiled wearily and nodded, the soft fabric of her burnoose brushing her cheeks. “Yes, well enough Doctor, thank you. But this pace…” her voice trailed away with a cough and Banner handed her his canteen with a smile.

“We’ll be stopping soon I suspect, Miss Potts,” he murmured as she gulped down a mouthful of water. “The Lieutenant and Captain will force Tony to stop.”

She sighed and almost sagged out of the saddle herself as she handed the canteen over; he caught her though, a firm hand, stronger than she thought possible for a man of such small stature, resting on her shoulder and holding her upright as she gathered her strength. “Thank you,” she murmured and he nodded. “I haven’t ridden this hard since the sand storm of 1875 when I was in Alexandria with my guardians’.”

Banner’s eyes were shadowed behind the dark lenses of his glasses but she could sense the calculation in his gaze. She jumped when he held out a hand in her direction, saying, “Hand me the reins, Miss Potts. I’ll take charge of your camel.”

She hesitated, ever so briefly but then shook her head, straightening determinedly. “I am fine, sir,” she said, her blue eyes blazing behind the now clear lenses of her goggles. She smiled at the doctor and gathered the woven reins of her camel in her right hand, draping her legs across the saddle horn as she did. “If you and Dr. Stark and Mr. Barton and the soldiers can ride out the rest of this hellish night intact then so can I.”

She noticed the odd green glint of the man’s eyes but she put it off as nothing but a reflection of the moon in his glasses. He smiled a tiny crooked grin and nodded, his fingers rising to tip his bowler hat politely. “Of course madam,” he murmured as he lounged across his camel’s back, mirroring her stance unconsciously. “But if I may, I shall ride beside you for the duration of this stretch, in case you need assistance.”

Pepper frowned but then shrugged. “If you wish sir. But I won’t be needing assistance,” she said, her voice haughty.

He did not miss the slight tremble of her fingers upon the reins she clutched so desperately, but he only chuckled and grabbed his canteen once more.

“You ladies will be the making of this exhibition, madam,” he murmured as he raised his canteen to his lips.

She did not deign that comment with a response.

She did shoot him a dangerous glare from the corner of her eyes though.

He only smiled, his dark eyes glowing with an unusual luminescence she did not wish to understand.

They rode together for what seemed like ages and just as Pepper swore she would be yanked from her saddle by the steady up-and-down sweep of her camel’s head, Lieutenant Logan blew his horn.

Only the doctor riding silently at her side heard her heavy sigh of relief.

She did not protest when he helped her from her camel’s back and when he caught her as her legs buckled under her weight she thanked him quietly.

She rested her head on his chest and heaved another sigh. “Thank the gods,” she whispered, as she felt her equilibrium return. “What a hellish night this has been.”

Banner had to agree.

He had a splitting headache.

* * *

The Wolverine and Captain America were furious with him.

With good reason, but the news that Hammer had pulled ahead had spurred him on as nothing else could and he had ignored his SHIELD liaisons’ advice that they stop in Beni Suef for a night in an inn.

He’d wanted to ride, and ride hard, and nothing the noble Captain or the querulous Lieutenant could have said would have stopped him.

The sight of Rumiko and Peggy slumped in their arms had put paid to that hair brained desire though.

“Stop the line Lieutenant,” he ground out, his teeth gritty with the damned sand blowing around them as he snarled at the two stony faced men riding beside him.

He could not pull his gaze away from his cousin or his betrothed.

“Stop this now, before someone gets hurt.”

“About time, bub,” snapped Logan. His dark eyes ranged around them as he sought a decent campsite and he nodded towards a palm shaded section of the Nile. “Take us there Cap,” he growled.

The Captain nodded and turned his camel’s head in the direction of the palms, slowing the lumbering beast to a walk as he did so. The girl in his arms sighed and he smiled absently as she tucked herself more firmly against his chest.

Behind him Logan’s horn began the steady blast signaling the end of their hellish ride.

They were done for the night. And about time too.

He turned his eyes to the train and couldn’t help a grimace at the sight of blown camels and exhausted riders.

They would have to do things differently once dawn came.

None could maintain such a hellish pace.

He tapped his camel’s side with his crop, being careful to not jostle the sleeping Peggy Carter in his arms, and as the beast sagged to its knees with a blustery sigh he smiled.

“Good boy,” he muttered as he slid to the ground smoothly, his arms tight around Peggy. Then, beckoning to one of the arriving porters he made his way towards a ring of stones surrounding a small pile of ash and set Stark’s dark haired cousin down gently, balling his coat up to place under her head.

He would make Miss Carter as comfortable as possible while the porter set up hers and Madam Fujikawa’s tent.

His fingers brushed through the sleeping girl’s hair absently and a small smile touched his lips as knelt beside her.

He did not notice Miss Potts’ thoughtful gaze on them.

The moon was low in the West when the last wagon rumbled into the camp, accompanied by Stark’s bodyguard, Clint Barton.

As he swung his leg over his camel’s saddle and slid to the ground, he muttered to a frowning Dr. Banner, “We’re going to have to rein in Tony, Banner. He’s getting a little too excited about this damned adventure of his.”

Banner’s eyes were thoughtful as he watched the man sling his cleverly designed crossbow onto his back, as well as a quiver. “It won’t happen again Clint,” he murmured as his hand stretched out to straighten the bodyguard’s hat. “Ru almost fell off her camel.”

Barton grimaced and twitched his black leather duster straight. “Lovely,” he grumbled as Banner grabbed his black doctor’s kit from the back of Barton’s camel and headed in the direction of their friend and employer’s tent which had been set up nearly an hour previous. “How’d she survive a fall off these behemoths?” he asked as he smacked the rump of one of the camel’ they passed. The beast grunted and Barton grimaced as it snapped squarish teeth in his direction. “Eurgh,” he grumbled as Banner chuckled.

“Pepper Potts saved her,” muttered Banner, his head bowed over his bag as he checked the contents to be sure he had the right supplies packed.

He didn’t miss the annoyed glance the bodyguard shot in his direction.

“Well that’s just downright annoying,” Barton grumbled as he stopped near the fire one of the porters had lit for their night in the desert. “I feel like I’m going to lose some of my hard earned money to that bionic armed Sergeant SHIELD sent along.”

Banner clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. “Maybe you shouldn’t gamble anymore Clinton,” he said with a laugh as he started to head in the direction of Madam Fujikawa’s tent.

Barton’s snort followed him and he paused as the man shouted, “I’ll be seeing you later tonight, right Banner?”

He turned back in the bodyguard’s direction and nodded, saying, “Of course. We have first watch.”

Barton’s groan followed him all the way to his tent and he couldn’t help a small smile in response.

* * *

Pepper hesitated outside of Rumiko Fujikawa’s tent, suddenly struck by the thought that this woman did not particularly like her and as such would not wish to be disturbed by her.

She ran her fingers over the soft tweed she held, sighing as she did so. Memories of this afternoon’s desperate ride struck her and she shivered.

 _How is it that women of the higher class are allowed to wear such masculine clothes, Miss Potts? It is decidedly not proper,_ Madam Fujikawa had said, her voice cold as she struggled to maintain her seat and her camel’s head. _You would think the ladies of Britain believe they are the equals of the men they associate with!_

Pepper had frowned, the lenses of her mother’s goggles darkening with a whir and a click of mechanized gears as she turned in her companion’s direction and she had asked, _And why is it wrong for me to think I am indeed the equal of most man? After all, I have studied at Cairo’s University, taken part in more digs than most archeologists and I am fully capable of thinking for myself. Why is this so ‘improper’, Madam?_

She had been genuinely confused; being raised in a household of intellectuals had given her the chance to learn and think as she pleased.

It was odd realizing that most women were not raised thus.

Rumiko had sniffed delicately, managing to inhale some sand as she did so and said, her voice as stiff as the heavy silk gown she wore, _It is most improper. I do hope Tony will not let Margaret get any such thoughts._

Pepper snorted and shook her head; Peggy Carter was a full member of the Engineers Legion. She was just as brilliant as her older cousin when it came to mech and how to manipulate metals. Trying to make her a proper lady was a long lost cause, she suspected.

Sighing once more she firmed her resolves and freed one hand from the stack of fabric she held and scratched at the rough canvas of Rumiko’s tent.

“Madam Fujikawa?” she called softly, a small part of her hoping the Oriental woman was sleeping, despite the warm lamp glow shining through the canvas. “It’s Pepper Potts, may I come in?”

She jumped when the canvas was yanked open, revealing Dr. Bruce Banner with an odd device covering his eyes.

“Oh!” she gasped at the same time he said, “Miss Potts!”

They hesitated, an awkward silence falling and then he smiled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You wanted to see Rumiko?” he asked, his voice mild and calming, despite the unsettling magnification of his eyes, which seemed a peculiar shade of gold, most different from his usual brown or that odd green she had sometimes noticed flashing through the purple lenses of his glasses.

She nodded and smiled, “Yes please, if I may? She isn’t sleeping?” she asked, still hoping she would not have to talk to the woman, despite her guilt.

Banner stood aside and beckoned her in. “I gave her a sleeping draught but she should be coherent enough for you to speak with her. She’s exhausted; none of us got much sleep last night, I fear, and after this afternoon…”

His voice trailed away as Pepper hesitated at the side of Rumiko’s cot; the woman’s dark eyes were cloudy but she did indeed seem aware enough to recognize who had come to see her.

“Miss Potts,” she murmured, her voice still chilly even with the powerful opiates the doctor had given her. “How good of you to appear.”

Pepper hesitated and then sat on the cot opposite Stark’s beautiful fiancée. “Are you well, madam?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly as she fought her nerves. Dr. Banner was busy with his black bag which sat on one of the stools beside Rumiko’s bed and he shot her an encouraging smile.

He’d removed his peculiar goggles, and she realized he had used the device to study his patient’s vitals; the goggles’ golden glow came from something called exotic particle beams, high energy beams of light which provided the viewer with realistic representation of the organs or devices the user could not see with the naked eye.

Some thought to call them X-Rays, because of the exotic particles emitted during use.

Rumiko coughed weakly and flapped her hand in the younger woman’s direction. “Yes, I am well enough, just exhausted. I was not aware this journey would be so strenuous I fear. I was ill-prepared for such a trying ride through the desert this afternoon.”

She sighed and burrowed deeper in her blankets, her eyelids growing heavy as her body relaxed.

Pepper dropped her gaze to the items she held in her arms and then she thrust them in the woman’s direction. “Here, I wish you to have these Madam,” she said, her cheeks warming under the sharpening gaze of Rumiko. “They may provide you with more comfort than that heavy silk you wore this afternoon,” she hurried to explain as Rumiko’s fingers stretched out to stroke the soft tweed Pepper held.

She frowned daintily, somehow managing to not wrinkle her brow with the expression and she said, her voice harsh in the tense silence of her tent, “Pants? I cannot wear these! It is the height of impropriety!”

Pepper floundered, trying to find the right words to persuade the woman but then Dr. Banner interjected, shooting her a cautionary glance as he stepped forward, his head bowed under the peak of the tent. “Ru, it may seem improper but you experienced heat-stress this afternoon! It’s only the first day, madam, and this is not even the peak of summer. You cannot afford another event like today.”

His voice was soft, gentle and very persuasive. Rumiko subsided, her dark eyes intent upon the doctor’s and he smiled, continuing, “Kimono’s may be the height of fashion in New York and San Francisco but this is not the States, Ru. This is Egypt and you have to adapt accordingly. You almost fell off of your camel this afternoon. The only reason you didn’t was because Miss Potts caught a hold of you in time!” He patted the folded tweed pants. “Try the slacks, you may find they are more comfortable than that heated silk you wore today.”

The two women were silent as the doctor stood and made his way towards the tent entrance and then Rumiko sighed.

“Very well. I shall try the slacks,” she said, her voice grudging. Her dark eyes settled on Pepper and she sighed. “They will need to be taken in I fear. I am much smaller than you Miss Potts.”

Pepper’s lips twitched in a small smile and she nodded. “Of course, we shall fix them in the morning,” she said as she stood. She made her way to the the tent entrance but stopped when the woman’s hand stretched out to stop her from leaving.

“Thank you Miss Potts,” she murmured, her words slightly slurred. “Thank you for saving me this evening and thank you for the clothes.”

Pepper hesitated, surprise causing her eyes to widen and she nodded. “You’re very welcome Madam!” she said as she bent to pull the light quilt higher up around the woman’s shoulders. “We are on the same team after all.”

Rumiko sighed and muttered, as her eyes drifted closed, “The same team.” She chuckled. “Tony said something this afternoon, that the ladies of this endeavor should stick together. Perhaps we should, Pepper Potts?”

Pepper stared at her, shocked and then she laughed and ran her fingers through the woman’s soft black hair. “I completely agree Madam Fujikawa,” she murmured. A soft snore greeted her words and she shook her head, still shocked at this change of personality.

Rumiko had almost been…warm.

It was most unusual.

“Miss Potts? May I speak with you?”

She jumped as Dr. Banner sidled up to her out of the shadows and turned to the man, her eyes wide. “Of course, doctor! What may I help with you?” she asked, curious despite her own exhaustion.

She could see Sergeant Barnes in the distance setting her own tent up and she longed to curl up in the blankets of her own fold away cot and sleep for the few hours she had before the dawn.

But that would not be possible until she reported to Dr. Stark and the Lieutenant; the three of them needed to plan for the coming days. If Lord Justin Hammer was truly pulling ahead then they would need to come up with a better strategy for this venture.

Banner was quiet for a moment and then he rummaged in his black bag; Pepper watched him attentively and could not help a small smile as he began to hum under his breath. He glanced at her over the frames of his glasses and said, “I noticed that you keep a journal and that the pages are mostly full. I enjoy inventing minor devices that may aid in everyday life and since you have become Tony’s assistant I thought this may help you for this journey!”

He smiled as he pulled a peculiar device from the bag and Pepper gasped despite herself.

“What is it?” she asked as she approached his outstretched hand and the brass sphere covered in what looked like typewriter keys. The brass shone brightly in the lantern light pooled around the entrance of Rumiko and Peggy’s tent and she stroked the cool metal gently. “It looks rather like a miniature typewriter!”

His soft chuckle greeted her exclamation and he grabbed her hand gently, opening her fingers so he could set the unusual device in her hand.

“I call it a Banner-Ball-Writer,” he said as she stroked the keys. “I detest writing my notes since my handwriting is pretty awful and I have a friend in Copenhagen who created a device similar to this and he allowed me to copy the design and modify it just so to my specifications.” He hesitated and then turned the device in her hand so she could see the typebars. “May I?” he asked and she nodded, her eyes wide as she took in the thirty-two bars all of which were half the size of her smallest finger; they were arranged along the underside of the ball and she bent her head, absentmindedly adjusting her mother’s goggles as she did so.

Banner’s eyes narrowed at the sound of whirring and clicking gears but he did not mention her unusual goggles. Instead, he explained the Ball Writer. “There is a roll of paper inserted into the center of the ball; when you strike a key the bars will snap in place, rather like an upright writer, and as you type the paper will coil out of the ball. This is a smaller model so it should fit well enough in your palm, Miss Potts. If you run out of paper or if the tape dries out in this dastardly heat you can let me know and I will adjust it for you.”

He beamed, his white teeth shining in the lamplight and she shook her head. “But Dr. Banner,” she said, her hand thrust out in his direction, “I can’t take this! It is your invention-what if you have need of it?!” Her eyes were wide, the right magnified to twice its size. “Thank you very much for this but-“

He stopped her, his gloved fingers settling on hers and the Ball Writer. “Nonsense Miss Potts!” he said with a soft chuckle. “I have my own device, it’s much less standard than your own. This was meant to be a present for Peg but she went ahead and created her own typewriting device, the minx. I just thought you would appreciate something of this nature.” He closed her fingers around the device and pushed her arm gently back towards her chest. “Please, take it.”

Pepper hesitated, a small part of her telling her she should not accept such momentous gifts from veritable strangers; but then the brass glinted and her thumb accidentally pressed against the rounded ‘A’ key and the loud click of the typebar broke the silence and she giggled.

“Oh very well, but only for this journey sir,” she said as she cradled the clever ball in her hands. Her blue eyes shone with excitement and Banner chuckled.

“Excellent. Use it well!” he called as he gathered his things once more and made his way towards his tent only a few feet away from Rumiko’s.

She watched him as he walked away, noting the blonde Barton sitting sprawled in a camp chair outside of the tent’s entrance smoking a roll-up and Dr. Banner’s gentle stroking of his shoulder as he passed through the tent to prepare for the night and she shook her head.

“Well, that’s odd,” she murmured as she lowered her gaze to her clever present. A small shiver of excitement darted up her spine as her fingers brushed the keys, sending the internal bars on a flurry of rapid activity and she giggled once more.

She did not get to enjoy her machine for much longer, sadly, for at that moment Logan bellowed from across the camp, “ _POTTS! MEETING! YOU’RE LATE!_ ”

Sighing, she slid her new Ball Writer into her satchel, wincing slightly as the weight settled on her shoulder, and she made her way towards Stark’s tent on the opposite side of Rumiko’s from Banner’s. The stiff canvas was striped with the Stark colors of scarlet, gold and bright blue and she couldn’t help a small snort at the sight of the chipper little flag blowing at the apex of the roof.

“Well if that isn’t American cockiness then I don’t know what is,” she muttered as she pushed through the canvas entrance of the tent.

She was so caught in her thoughts of Stark’s tent and American friends she collided with a chest high mechanized auton glaring at her with furious golden eyes; before she could react it said in a stiffly English accented voice as it poked her firmly in the shoulder with a scarily pointed brass finger, “You have trespassed upon Dr. Anthony Stark’s residence; I must ask you to identify yourself before you may come any further.”

“Excuse me?” she gasped as she used her satchel as a shield against further poking. “Identify yourself mechanical!” Her heart raced as she tried to control her initial shock at the machine’s appearance and she did not notice its master watching her from his desk with a small smile on his face.

“You will identify yourself or I will alert master to your presence,” the mech muttered, its voice clicking and whirring as it worked through the geared vocal patterns it had been provided for such a scenario; his metal head turned in her direction and she could not help the distinctive feeling of being studied and analyzed by its unsettling golden gaze. The eyes reminded her suddenly of Colonel Fury’s single golden orb back in Cairo and she remembered, really at the most inopportune moment, that Stark had provided the man’s mechanical devices. So this…machine…must be of Stark’s design as well.

The mech continued, its voice far grumpier as it realized she was not going to move, “You are a trespasser and you will not enter this premise without my master’s permission.”

Pepper snorted and folded her arms over her satchel. “Well, you can get it in your mechanical head, you box of gears and grease, that I am Dr. Stark’s assistant and partner and you are making me very late for a meeting and if you do not step aside then I will dismantle you myself and use you as-“

“That’s quite enough, Miss Potts,” said a quiet voice from just beyond the trembling mech. “Let’s not get carried away. JARVIS? Stand down, she’s my guest. Go clean my boots or something.”

The mech stepped aside at the sound of his master’s voice and Pepper sighed in relief as she watched it pace away on well-oiled geared legs.. “Dr. Stark your machine is almost as abrasive as my guardian’s Ultrons!”

He chuckled and beckoned her further into the tent. “I highly doubt that Miss Potts; those machines of Pym’s were particularly grumpy. I highly doubt my JARVIS could even begin to compare in attitude.”

She chuckled and glanced over her shoulder at the mech currently locating a pair of Stark’s boots; as she watched the hand of the machine whirred and instead of fingers a soft cloth appeared at the end of the limb. It promptly began polishing its master’s boots.

Pepper shook her head and muttered, “I’m not so sure Dr. Stark.”

When she sat in one of the sling chairs next to his fold-away desk, Stark folded his hands behind his back and cocked his head, taking a moment to study his assistant. She had removed her scarf, but still wore her unusual goggles, which continued to fascinate him. He wondered if she would allow him to study them…She also wore her waistcoat but had pulled on her tan leather riding jacket from the previous evening; most likely to help offset the chill of the desert night.

Her red hair shone like burnished copper in the soft lamp light of his tent and her cheeks were slightly reddened from a day spent in the sun. Of all in his company he realized she had handled the hard ride the best. She barely exhibited any signs of exhaustion or of heat stress; not like his fiancé or cousin.

But then, she had been raised into this.

Her parents were Harmonia and Craticus Potts, after all, and all mysteries of their disappearance aside, they continued to be two of the greatest archaeologists and historians their modern age had ever seen.

Pepper’s cheeks warmed under Stark’s calculating silence; she rather felt like he was sizing her up.

“Dr. Stark, where is Lieutenant Logan?” she asked, her voice weak; she was suddenly glad she was sitting and not standing. She was not entirely sure her legs would have been able to support her under such an examination.

Stark jumped but before he could answer there was a ruckus at the front of the tent; the mech, apparently called JARVIS said, “You have trespassed upon Dr. Anthony Stark’s residence; I must ask you to identify yourself before you may come any further.”

And a familiar, querulous voice, accompanied by the telltale snick of hydraulically powered blades sliding free, snapped, “Get this box of gears out of my face, Stark, or I’m taking its head.”

Stark and Pepper turned in time to see Logan’s claws rest at the mechanical’s neck jointure and Stark gasped, throwing himself towards mech and Wolverine before the man could destroy the machine.

“Stop! Stop right now! JARVIS, just another friend!” he bellowed as he wrestled the machine away. “Well, friend may be a bit of an exaggeration,” he muttered, as Logan straightened and withdrew his claws. Both men glared at each other as the mech slunk off once more to polish some boots and Stark cocked his head, studying the Lieutenant in a blatant manner. “Are you usually this abrasive, Wolverine?”

Both Lieutenant and assistant snorted and Pepper muttered as she pulled her maps and the Ball Writer from her satchel, “Oh yes. He really is the grumpiest person I know.” Glancing at Stark as both men came towards her she smiled and crossed her legs before continuing, “Just don’t ask him questions in the morning before he’s had his coffee. It won’t end well.”

Logan snorted once more and withdrew a cigar from his pocket. “Speaking of things that won’t end well,” he muttered as he snipped the end off of the thick cigar. He shot a glare at Stark who had the grace to look uncomfortable and he shook his head. “Mind telling us what got up your smoke pipe this evening Stark? Why the stampede?”

Stark shifted uncomfortably and then sat at his desk. “I do not want to lose to Hammer,” he muttered as he fiddled idly with his neck scarf. “I heard you say Hammer was ahead of us and all I thought was that he was going to beat us to Saqqara.”

It was quiet for a moment and then Pepper and Logan began to chuckle. “Sir,” she said, her voice gentle despite the humorous light in her eyes, “you will not lose to Lord Justin Hammer. Believe us. Have you ever heard the fable of the tortoise and the hare?”

She propped her chin on her open palm and cocked her head, calculation in her mien and he found himself leaning towards her. “Are you saying I am the tortoise Miss Potts?” he asked, his voice husky.

They jumped when Logan slammed his fists down on the desk between them, making her clever present from Dr. Banner jiggle precariously close to the edge of the desk and she hurried to still it lest it fall.

“Yes Stark,” he growled, “we are saying you are the tortoise. Hammer thinks he has this in the bag but he’s a Western lord who has never set foot in anything other than a cushy mansion and those idiotic airships you richy rich’s love. So we’re saying take it slow and easy, let the camels do what they do best which is plod along and spit and you will get to Saqqara first.” He leaned back and Stark could swear the man actually smiled; at least his sideburns twitched.

“Slow and steady, eh?” Stark mused, his dark eyes sparkling as he glanced from adviser to assistant and finally he nodded. “Very well, I accept these terms. Especially after this afternoon. So, what will the dawn bring us Lieutenant, Miss Potts?”

Logan rolled his cigar between his fingers for a moment and then nodded to Pepper. “Better show him Miss Potts,” he said, his gruff voice wry.

She hesitated and then reached into her satchel for the map she had brought for this exact debate.

Opening it with a flourish between the three, she adjusted her goggles accordingly, allowing the lenses to magnify the faintly drawn lines of the road they would take and she ran her finger gently along the parchment.

Glancing at Stark she sighed and shrugged, “We have to strike West with the dawn sir,” she said, her voice quiet. He could see the trepidation and dark knowledge in her eyes.

“Ah,” he hummed as he bent closer to the map. There were very few towns in the vast expanse of yellowing parchment. But the Nile did curve along her slender finger he noted with relief. “Don’t tell me,” he said as he straightened from his slouch. “We’re going to have to leave the wagons behind.”

Pepper and Logan glanced at each other and then nodded, a pained expression on her face and dark humor on his.

“It wouldn’t be Egypt bub, if you weren’t truly roughing it,” Logan said with a wry chuckle as he leaned back in his chair and lit his cigar with a click-striker from his pocket.

Stark sighed and ran his hand firmly over his chest. “Lovely,” he grumbled and he tried to ignore the dark panic of his heart whirring and grinding beneath his fingers. “Please tell me this is a shorter route?”

His assistants only chuckled and bent over the map once more, discussing the best route to take.

Stark did not think that dark laughter boded well for his heart.

The steady whir and click of his gears calmed him but he wondered how long they would be able to tick so steadily once they set foot firmly within the sands of Egypt.

If he hadn’t promised Rumiko that he would cease his gambling for the duration of this journey he would have taken bets on how long the mech would last.

Somehow he suspected he would lose, literally and economically.

As midnight crept past and they had begun to dissolve into yawns and incoherent mumbles during their reconnaissance, Logan finally ordered them to bed.

He was the first to leave; he prowled from the tent, a thick trail of blue tinged cigar smoke following in his wake, and he grumbled as he pushed through the canvas, “No amount of pay is worth these richy rich’s.” Pepper and Stark coughed, small smiles on each of their lips as they stood and stretched and she shrugged.

Stark shook his head and muttered as he began to undo the soft blue silk of his ascott, “I think I’m growing on him Miss Potts.” She only chuckled and shook her head as she packed her satchel.

When she was ready to depart and the silence had grown tense with her continued presence she hesitated, her eyes shadowed under the brass ledge of her goggles, pushed up over her brow now that she had folded her maps away and she yawned. “Well, goodnight sir,” she said as she turned to go. “I will see you at the dawn.”

Stark bowed, his hand sweeping the canvas floor of his tent and he straightened, a cocky grin on his lips. “Farewell sweet maid!” he said. “I look forward to riding forth with you once more! Sleep ever well and dream of cool lemonade and illicit swims in fountains!”

She snorted and slung her satchel over her shoulder. “I rather dislike the taste of lemonade, sir,” she said as she headed for the tent’s entrance. “And swimming in fountains never quite appealed. I think I shall dream of the library.”

She executed a mocking curtsy and bowed her head, a snide smirk on her lips. “Good night Dr. Stark,” she said as she straightened.

His voice was gentle as he bowed once more, this time quite seriously, “Good night Miss Potts,” he said and she shivered at the unfamiliar expression in his gaze.

It was almost like…admiration.

“Good night,” she muttered again as she hurried from the tent, her chest suddenly tight and her fingers tingling as she inexplicably recalled her hands resting on his mechanical chest.

Pepper took a shuddering breath as she emerged from his tent and tried to contain the racing her heart.

 _Whatever had that been?_  she wondered as she hurried towards her tent nestled between Dr. Banner’s and the SHIELD escorts.

Despite her exhaustion and knowing that the next day would be as hard as this first day out in the desert, she did not fall asleep until the wee hours of the morning.

And even then the thoughts of, _Why did he look at me thus? Why the look of admiration in his gaze?_ swirled through her mind.

But then she found herself wondering as her fingers stung with the ghostly memory of his gears spinning under her touch, _What will he do when his heart needs to be fixed…_

That last thought struck her so suddenly she actually woke, sitting up so quick her head connected with the upper bar of her tent.

Cursing at the sharp pain cracking across her skull, she buried her face in her hands and sighed.

“What is he going to do,” she whispered to herself, “when even a single grain of sand buries itself deep in his gears?” Images of stuttering and choking gears flitted across her mind and she shuddered. She needed to find a way to help him.

After all…she was the one who had gotten him in this mess.

Glancing around her tent, her gaze settled on her mother’s trunk and a slow smile appeared on her lips.

Falling to her knees before the clever multi-leveled contraption she slid the hieroglyphs covering its front and listened to the heavy tumblers clicking deep within its inner workings as the selection was accepted and raised. Soon the lid sprung open and she bent over to gaze at the shelf the device had provided her.

Linen bandages of varying lengths and widths were arrayed before her and she sighed in relief as she realized that the answer of Anthony Stark’s heart had always been before them.

Sometimes the old ways truly were the best.

When she arrived at Stark’s tent a few moments later, her arms full of linen bandages she said, “Dr. Stark, we are going to do something for your heart.”

He glanced at her, his mouth slightly agape as he took in the items she held and sputtered, “Are you going to mummify me madam?”

She dropped the bandages on his desk with a considering frown on her face as she took in his bare chest; the man hadn't yet dressed for the day and stood before her in just a pair of soft wool pants. Even his feet were bare. She tried to keep her gaze from the spinning gears buried in his chest; it was very difficult though and she wondered if she had brought enough bandages for such a feat as wrapping his chest away from the desert. Ignoring her worries she smiled and selected a long strip of linen saying, “Just like the pharaoh’s of old.”

All he could do was chuckle and raise his arms as she approached him.  "Then by all means, madam, wrap me in linen and stick me in a sarcophagus if you think it will keep me functioning!"

She actually chuckled as she bent to her task and said quite seriously, "Don't think I did not consider that option, sir."  

He chuckled and shook his head.

After all, this journey was already mad enough, maybe mummification would be the answer to all of his troubles.

Anything to keep the sand at bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! 
> 
> Also a note about Bruce's "Banner-Ball-Writer!" If you look up typewriters you will find a device call the Hansen Writing Ball which is what I based the BBW on! It's really quite fascinating and very steampunky. 
> 
> Definitely look it up it's beyond awesome! 
> 
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hansen_Writing_Ball


	10. Back in Cairo

The sporadic beeping of the telegram machine in the adjoining office woke Special Agent Phil Coulson from his mid-morning nap; he had only just returned to Cairo after a successful mission in Morocco, reclaiming an asset with supernatural powers she had gained after stumbling upon an ancient burial site in El Salvador that had been the long ago battleground of two rival races named the Kree and Skrull.

When he had found her she had turned golden hands on him and blasted him nearly a mile across a bazaar; she'd been quite stunning in her black gown and scarlet burnoose. He hadn't even realized she was blonde until he'd stunned her with a SHIELD issued Tesla ray gun.

He was sorry to say he had forgotten how truly dangerous the Kree magics were. It had been years since he had been stationed in the Central America's. He did not remember the Kree ships nestled in the Andes, forgotten by all as per SHIELD's orders, until Carolyn Danvers turned golden eyes on him and asked if he was going to kill her.

Happily he had been able to tell her the truth. Which was 'no' this time around. That hadn't stopped her from making his job that much harder though.

 _You're with SHIELD!_ she had shrieked as her golden powers began to surround her. _I know what Fury sent you for!_

That was when he had known this mission was not going to be as easy of a bag-and-tag as Colonel Fury had implied.

 _Oh hell_ , he had groaned as he snapped the Tesla out of his pocket and adjusted the settings, all while dodging golden fire balls and a shrieking banshee's curses. She'd certainly been stunning, her golden hair streaming around her as she hovered a few feet in the air above the square. _I'm getting too old for this._

The fight between the two of them had only lasted a few moments but by the time he had caught her up in his arms and begun carrying her back to the steam powered autonmech waiting just past the temple at the far end of the square, most of the bazaar had been blasted to pieces and he had begun to really feel his age.

Maybe it was time to request a desk job.

Well no matter, he had retrieved the woman; she was currently being held deep within the Citadel, awaiting Colonel Fury's orders he'd been hoping he'd be able to catch some shut eye before having to report to the Colonel. That seemed to be out of the question though and he sighed in frustration as Atora, one of the wire-girls, stretched out a tentative hand to shake his hand.

"Sir? Mr. Phil," she said, her piping voice almost grating in the early morning silence. "Mr. Phil, telegram sir. It is very important. You must wake up."

She dared to shake his hand once more and Coulson could not help reflecting that he might be losing his touch; normally no one touched him. Ever. The rumors of his dark past and training kept most people at bay.

But the telegram girls were different animals entirely.

They were not afraid of him.

It must be the oranges he left for them on their desks or the chocolates he kept hidden in obvious places and always made sure to restock when they ran low without mentioning how fast they disappeared.

Or maybe it was the fact that he had provided this job for all of them; SHIELD's wire-girls were cast-outs from their families and husbands, unwanted chattel that had been told all of their lives they were worthless and that they would never be considered important.

It was the one thing he disliked about Egypt, the disrespect most women had to contend with. He liked thinking his providing the forgotten girls with steady jobs helped move this ancient world just that one step closer towards enlightenment.

Or maybe that was just him being a bull headed American.

No matter. Atora was getting increasingly desperate.

“Mr. Phil! Please sir!” she said as she bent closer to him, “Telegram sir!”

He sighed again and opened his eyes. "All right, all right Atora," he grumbled as he sat up and rotated his back carefully. Both he and the dark eyed girl with her tidy Western coiffure and black crepe gown, winced as his spine crickled. "Getting too old for this ," he grumbled as he accepted the thin sheet of paper from the frantic girl.

She waited patiently, ever the best of his assistants, her dark eyes intent as she watched him read the message typed there.

"Oh hell," he groaned as he read the message once more. Glancing up he snapped, "Get my hat and coat, would you Atora? I have to get this message to the Colonel."

As the girl scrambled around the room, gathering his belongings, he reread the telegram, his lips moving over the words and his mind spinning as he tried to predict what the Colonel would need, as per the message's request.

"Atora," he said slowly as she helped him into his coat.

"Yes Mr. Phil?" she asked as she smoothed the coat down over his shoulders. He barely noticed the familiarity of her touch.

"Get me Sergeant Munroe and her blasted weather machine she keeps tinkering with and send her to me," he said as he began to head towards the door, the telegram safe in his pocket.

He paused when Atora asked, "And where will you be sir?"

He sighed and rubbed his forehead where a pressure headache was starting to grow. Glancing at the wire-girl he shrugged one shoulder and said, as she gasped, "I'll be in the rose gardens."

And then he rushed from the room, his boot heels clicking loudly on the mosaic tiling of the Great Hall.

His mind was still spinning with the words written on the telegram paper and he pulled the crumpled message out of his pocket, reading it once more.

_Coulson Currently flying over Sal Saqqash <stop> Stark team in desert <stop> Hammer team pulling ahead <stop> Request orders <stop> Wilson and Masters suspicious <stop> Hammer oblivious <stop> Running out of time <full stop>_

As he burst through the double doors leading towards the rose gardens and hopefully his commanding officer, he tried to ignore the sickening worry he felt about their agent currently flying with a team of madmen over the Egyptian desert.

She was awaiting orders.

They would have to act fast.

"Sir," he gasped as he rushed around the corner of the arbor where he could hear his boss's deep voice humming a spiritual he liked to sing when he was working on the Citadel Pharaoh roses. "We have an issue."

"Is the issue your interrupting my down time Coulson, because that's a pretty important issue right now."

Couslon winced as he came to a stop behind a kneeling Fury and cleared his throat. "Sorry sir," he muttered as he fiddled with his tie and rummaged in his pocket for a pair of tinted glasses. The sun was beating down on them through the many glass window panes of the solarium and he was far too tired to deal with it right now. "I didn't think you'd want me to wait for this message," he said as he slid the black lenses over his eyes. He sighed in relief as the bright white Egyptian sunlight dimmed to a bearable brightness and folded his hands behind his back, waiting for the Colonel to acknowledge him.

Fury sighed and sat back on his heels, most of his weight settling on his right leg. The faint click and whir of gears greeted this change in balance and Coulson flinched slightly. Sometimes it was easy to forget the Colonel was not entirely human, especially when he wore his patch and his leg was covered by slacks and his customary black leather duster.

"What is it this time Coulson?" he grumbled as he shifted a pair of shears in his grasp and snipped a withered bud off of one of his rose bushes.

Coulson hesitated and then handed the message to Fury. "Telegram, sir. From our agent in Hammer's team," he said, his eyes darting around to make sure they were truly alone.

They were of course. All of SHIELD avoided the solarium and gardens at this time of day. Except for Phil Coulson of course.

Fury was silent as his gold eye drifted over the words before him and then he chuckled. “She’s getting nervous then. Interesting. I wonder if the Merc is making her uncomfortable.”

Coulson took a step back as the Colonel stood and frowned. “Sir,” he said slowly as Fury moved to another bush in need of some care. “Is this a joking matter? If the airship is pulling ahead of Stark’s team, isn’t that bad? After all, Hammer isn’t exactly the most trustworthy of ironmongers in the West.”

Fury glanced at him as he stuck a finger in the rich soil at the base of his roses and smirked. “Nervous Coulson?” he asked as he snapped and pointed his fingers at a watering can near where his agent stood. The man sighed and handed him the copper can and Fury smiled as he bent his head over the bush. “You need to be calm agent. Everything will work out.” He straightened with another whir of gears and dusted his hands off. “Did you send for Ororo then?” he asked as he studied the sweet smelling roses surrounding him.

Coulson hesitated and then nodded. “Yes sir,” he said quietly. “I thought she might be able to move some things along for us, since she finally got Xavier’s machine to work.”

Both men were quiet for a moment, each recollecting the sudden monsoon they had experienced a few days ago. When Ororo had burst into the rec hall, her hands full of a brass and clockwork device emitting a dangerous whine and the horrible smell of burning ozone, they’d realized the early rains were her doing and most of the Citadel’s occupants had begun to laugh.

 _Sorry, sorry!_ She had exclaimed as she had set her hands on the glass globe rising out of the shimmering surface of the weather machine. _I brushed it with my elbow when I was getting dressed and was thinking of taking a bath as I did so. The machine can be very sensitive to that type of thought._

As she’d finished talking she had turned her gaze to the wide, lead paned, windows of the hall and taken a deep breath.

 _I’ll fix this_ , she had murmured as her hands locked onto the globe and the air had stilled. The machine’s whining had suddenly stilled and the globe which she held so carefully had begun to gather an odd white light, almost as if a ray of sunlight filled its innards. _I will fix this_ , Ororo had growled as she had thrown her head back, causing her unusual white hair to stream down her back in soft waves.

All had jumped when they’d spotted the machine’s particular alchemy at work and no few had hissed as they backed away from the rigid Sergeant, _Look at her eyes!_

Coulson still shivered at the memory of her dark eyes going blank and glowing with the white energy currently overflowing form her hands.

 _There we go.  I've fixed it now_ , she had said.

And to their utter amazement, she had.

“Sir,” Coulson said as he brought his mind back to the present and shifted under the close scrutiny of the Colonel. “Can she use that machine long distance? Saqqash is close to a hundred miles away, doesn’t she have to use the machine in close quarters?”

“What kind of close quarters are we talking about, sir?” said a voice from behind them and both men turned to see the uniformed Sergeant standing before them.

Her white hair tumbled down her back in loose curls, the occasional strand braided and beaded in what she called her tribal roots. She wore SHIELD’s standard khaki colored uniform, along with the high boots she and the cavalry affected when about the Citadel and Coulson realized she was about to depart the city for a mission.

Thus the white burnoose draped over her shoulders and the goggles sitting in the bucket of her hat.

“Sergeant,” he said as he waited for her salute, which she executed quickly. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“Of course sir,” she said pleasantly as she gazed from first him then to her commander. “What’s this about?”

Fury folded his arms and waited for Coulson to respond. His gold eye whirred from behind his eyepatch and he smiled as the Sergeant shifted before her commanders. She was nervous. Probably because she’d made it snow in the orange trees the other day while showing Bobbi Morse how the machine sitting in its non-descript case at her feet, worked. She may think they were about to take it away, but in all honesty, once she found the correct way to operate it, she’d have one of the greatest weapons in their arsenal.

“Sergeant Munroe,” Coulson began as she fidgeted with the beads twisted into her hair, “I’m glad you brought your weather machine. I trust it is in working order?”

Her dark cheeks flushed and she glanced nervously once more to the Colonel, who still gazed at her, stony faced. “Well,” she began, her voice careful, “I’m still getting used to it but yes, it’s in working order. Why do you ask?”

Coulson glanced at the machine sitting between them and then asked, “How does the blasted thing actually work Sergeant?”

He couldn’t help being curious about the unusual device she was now unwrapping from its black leather and brass case. She was kneeling on the ground now, her head bent over her favorite treasure as she carefully removed the heavy mech full of still gears and clever togs. Both men moved closer as she first removed a tiny key, an oil can and then the case which held the globe which gathered the etheric forces of nature the machine thrived on.

“You might want to stand back,” she murmured as she slid the finely spun glass globe from its wrappings and attached it to the bracket waiting on the indented surface of the rectangular box. This was the most important and final piece of this unusual puzzle.

“We do not need a demonstration, Sergeant!” Coulson exclaimed as he took a single step back but she only smiled and shook her head.

“Sometimes a demonstration is needed so the mysteries of such a device can be understood sir. Besides, by the looks of the Colonel’s roses I’d say they need some water and a little gentler sunlight, am I correct sir?”

Fury’s lips twitched at the question and he nodded as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his duster. “Carry on Sergeant,” he said with a small chuckle. “Show us what that blasted thing can do.”

She nodded and stuck the tiny gold key about the size of her index finger and near as wide into the lock located at the wood base of the device and both men jumped at the loud sound it made as it connected with the tumblers buried there.

“It takes three turns,” she explained as she twisted the key said many times and they watched, wide-eyed, as the gears clicked and spun slowly with her motions. “If you do any more than that…well…” she trailed off as the machine began to hum in a familiar manner. “Right,” she continued as she shook out her slender hands and arched them over the round globe. It was made of clear glass and currently nothing spun within its interior. “So a little rain and some sun,” she muttered as she placed first the tips of her fingers across the surface. Both men gasped as the air tensed around them, almost as if a storm was beginning to brew and she chuckled. “If you have umbrellas now would be the time to get them out gentlemen.”

And then she locked her hands tight against the glass and gritted her teeth.

The tiny gears buried deep with in the cherry wood frame of the box before her, were covered in unusual runes and made of precious metals like brass, iron, copper and silver; as they began to churn deep within the cherry wood box, she muttered to herself in her native tongue while the dark energies, summoned by the charmed metals, gathered under her fingers.

“Come along,” she muttered, “Just a little rain and some gentle sunlight. Nothing too drastic dear.”

Coulson and Fury, skeptical but excited as well, watched in interest as she moved her fingers against the glass and both gasped when wisps of darkness began to issue from the base of the globe.

“What is that?!” Coulson exclaimed, his voice hushed in the still air of the solarium.

She glanced at him and he gasped again at the sight of her eyes spinning from their reassuringly normal black to the blank white that foresaw the summoning of the machine’s power.

“Alchemy, sir,” she said, her voice charged with the alchemic powers she held in her hands. “Magic.”

Then, as the machine’s faint whine grew increasingly uncomfortable and the glass she held trembled between her fingers, there was a faint boom of thunder and impossibly, it began to rain.

Heavily.

Within the solarium.

“’A gentle downpour,’ Sergeant?” Fury asked as he yanked his duster closed and worked on keeping the slacks covering his mechanical leg dry.

“Sorry, sorry,” she grumbled as she bent once more over the device and cursed under her breath when the gears continued spinning despite her dismantling of the globe and the removal of the key. “I’m still attempting to understand all of its clever maneuvers,” she explained as she cradled the globe still spilling charmed rainclouds from its interior. “Dr. Xavier did say it would take some getting used to.”

Both men sighed as the rain eased and Coulson couldn’t help but chuckle as water poured from the brim of his bowler. “Right Sergeant,” he said as she sat back on her heels and began wringing the water from her hair. “Obviously it works, if the operator is still a bit unclear on how exactly it does so.” He glanced at Fury who was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “We should go inside,” Coulson continued as he turned back to the Sergeant. “Bring your mech and let’s get some tea sent our way while we discuss what to do about the damned thing.”

She hesitated in the process of packing away the machine and frowned, “You’re not taking it away, are you sir? After all, I am getting more acquainted with it! I only made it snow once!” She flinched when Fury’s eyebrow rose at her words and hurried on, “And I only thought it would help SHIELD!”

Coulson’s lips twitched in a small smile and he slapped his drenched bowler back on his head. “Exactly Sergeant Munroe,” he said as he brushed past her, Fury ambling along behind him. “That’s why we need it.”

“’Need it’?” she repeated as she rushed after her commanders. “But why?!”

Both men glanced at her as they pushed through the double doors leading to the main interior of the Citadel and Fury growled, “You’re going on a special little outing with that damned piece of British mech, Sergeant. You and a team of your choosing.”

“’A mission’? And a team of my choosing?! Sir I don’t understand!” she gasped as they entered Fury’s sunlit office.

He greeted Hill, who approached them with an oiled sigh and removed his leather duster with a murmur of put-upon gears.

“Yes a mission,” he growled once more, as he sat with a sigh in the heavy wooden chair behind his desk. “You and two others are going after Stark’s team of explorers and you and that machine are going to provide them with an added advantage they are sorely going to need before this foolhardy trip of Anthony Stark’s can even come close to being complete.” He paused and glanced at the wide eyed Sergeant with dark knowing in his eye. “Think you can do that for us, Munroe?”

Sergeant Ororo Munroe, soon to be dubbed Storm due to her propensity for weather tinkering, gazed in amazement at both men and then executed a sharp salute. “Of course sir!” she barked as her eyes sparkled. “Sounds exciting! And I can choose any of my liking?”

Coulson nodded, “As long as they have clearance and we deem them trustworthy. This is a sensitive mission after all Sergeant.” He smiled a tiny smile and asked, “Know who you want on the team already?”

Without hesitation she nodded, “Absolutely sir!”

“Better tell us then so we can draw up some papers and put together a mission report for you and your team then. As well as a supply billet.” Coulson removed a slightly damp pad of paper from his pocket and a stub of a pencil. All ignored the disdainful sniff of Hill in the corner and he nodded to the Sergeant, “Well?” he asked. “Who do you want?”

She was grinning her entire being trembling with excitement as she said, “Bobbi Morse and Peter Parker, sir. They’re perfect for a desert outing.”

Fury sighed as he fiddled with the papers on his desk, the sound of Hill typing on her self-equipped typewriter loud in his ear.

“Sergeant, this is no mere outing,” he said as he stretched his metal geared leg out before him. “This is a mission of life or death. That machine of yours is going to save a few lives one way or another and you must remember that.”

She frowned, ever so slightly and asked, only a bit less excited than before, “What do you need me to do?”

Coulson glanced up from his notepad and said with a fierce grin on his lips, “How good are you at generating dust storms Sergeant?”

All she could do was stare at the men before her.

“Dust?” she asked weakly as she sagged into the chair before Fury’s desk.

Both men nodded and said, simultaneously, “Dust, Sergeant.”

The only sound for a long moment was the steady tick and whir of mechanized gears of two individuals within the room spinning obliviously along and Sergeant Ororo Munroe couldn’t help thinking that somewhere over the desert, similar gears were spinning just as obliviously.

And soon she was going to put a stop to them.

With just a bit of brass, cherry wood and alchemy which she barely understood.

“Right,” she said as she straightened in her chair. “Understood, sir. Will you provide a debriefing packet to my team?”

Fury was quiet a moment, his single eye thoughtful as he took in her determination and the knowledge in her eyes that she may become the instrument of destruction for at least one man, let alone several others.

“Yes Sergeant,” he said as he fiddled with the eyepatch covering his eye. “Your supplies will be complete and your mission reports will be laid out for you before the night is through.”

“Right,” she said once more as she stood, her legs only a little shaky. “I’ll go tell them then, shall I, sir?”

“That would be wise, Sergeant,” he said with a small smile on his lips. “You made a good choice in teammates.”

She smiled as she gathered her case and settled her cap on her head. “I think I did too, sir. I’ll report later tonight once I receive the mission brief.”

And then she left, the door closing silently behind her as she went and both men sighed absentmindedly as the tension, which always seemed to follow her wherever she went nowadays, left with her.

“Are we doing the right thing here, sir?” Coulson asked as she sat in her vacant seat.

Fury glanced at him but before he could respond, Hill chirped from her corner where she sat typing notes for her director’s perusal, “Opportunity of success for Stark party currently at forty percent sir. Opportunity of success once Xavier’s Weather mechanical is put into practice? Ninety percent.”

Both men stared at the now silent machine and Fury chuckled as he glanced at his best agent. “Well, there’s your answer Coulson. We made the right move here.”

 _Did we though?_ Coulson thought a while later as he made his way towards his office. _Did we really? Because if so…why does this feel like cheating?_

Which was a ridiculous feeling to be having, of course.

Because if there was one thing SHIELD was good at, it was making sure things of great importance had a way of panning out in their favor.

That was not cheating.

That was manipulation.

“Atora!” he shouted as he entered his office.

“Yes Mr. Phil?” she asked as she poked her head around the doorway leading to the wire room.

“Get me Carolyn Danvers. But be sure they bring her strapped in the dampeners. I don’t fancy being smashed through the doorway again.”

“Right away Mr. Phil,” she said as she rushed to her forum board and began placing the message. Amidst the heavy clicking of her hands against the wires of her board she asked, “Why are you wanting to see her so soon, sir?”

He hesitated and glanced around his quaint office full to the brim with paperwork in various stages of completion and weapons in need of testing and authorization.

“Mr. Phil?”

“Mmm? Oh!” he said as he straightened from his slumped position over his desk. “The Danvers woman. Well…I suppose you could say I’m offering her a choice Atora.”

The wire girl nodded knowingly from her position in the doorway and said, her tone solemn, “Just like you offer all of us a choice, right Mr. Phil?”

“Right,” he said as he slid his hat off and leaned back in his chair. “Just like the choices I give all of our assets.”

 _Not cheating,_ he said to himself. _Just some sound minded manipulation._

_That’s all._


	11. Of Spiders and Princes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a rather long one my dears. 
> 
> I hope everyone is well and to those getting ready to start a new semester, good luck! 
> 
> Just to warn you, I'm taking some liberties with certain characters backgrounds. I hope this doesn't freak too many people out. This isn't necessarily a super canon story but I have been trying to keep to basic story lines as best as possible. But sometimes rules must be bent. 
> 
> Feel free to let me know how it goes!
> 
> Love to all.
> 
> -M

“Two days,” Stark’s voice growled from the front of the line. “Two days we have ridden, non-stop, through this godforsaken desert without more than a few hours rest. I’m starting to think you’re planning on killing us Lieutenant.”

Bruce Banner glanced at his companion and sighed. Clint Barton, his hands resting at ease on the reins and the smooth surface of his crossbow only chuckled and shook his head. “Better get up there Banner or Stark may find himself at odds with the Wolverine.”

“And why do I have to be the one, Mr. Barton? Why do you never step up to save the innocents from Tony’s put-upon wrath?”

Barton clicked a bolt into his bow and shrugged, his eyes and smirk shadowed by the Western styled hat he wore low on his brow. “Why? Because I’d as soon as push him off the goddamn camel than actually talk to him.” He chuckled and sighted along the bow, aiming at Stark’s rocking back two camels away from where they rode and nodded in approval. Glancing back to the good doctor, who continued to ride with him, he jerked his head in Stark’s direction and said with a chuckle, “Well? Get up there! I can almost hear the ‘snikt’ of those damn claws coming out from all the way back here.”

Banner sighed and nodded, “You’re right of course. I’ll be back.”

“You better,” Barton murmured, his eyes sparking with some unnamed emotion and Banner’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

Then, before either man could discuss what stood between them, he brushed his crop along his camel’s side and he was off in a rolling, sand-churning lope that made his body rock and roll in a most ungainly manner.

Barton’s eyes followed his friend’s movements, silently noting the way the man rode and he could not help a small smile from darting across his lips at the slightly sensual motions they called to mind. Then, pulling his mind from certain pleasantries he glanced over his shoulder to where Sergeant Barnes rode attentively with Stark’s ladies and oddly enough the bright eyed Captain and shook his head.

“What a malarkey,” he muttered as he slid his crossbow home in the self-designed holster strapped to the side of his camel’s saddle. Then he reached into his duster’s pocket and withdrew a silver cigarette case embossed with the letters BM under which an unusual bird flew. “Well,” he mumbled as he placed a smoke between his lips and slid the flint and tinder striker from his other pocket, he lit the cigarette with a gentle click of the striker’s button. “Whoever said the desert was as dry as a bone obviously didn’t ride with this company.”

His eyes drifted over said company as he smoked and he leaned back against the saddle, affecting his customary nonchalant style with ease and he couldn’t help a small grin at the sight of Banner riding between their friend and employer and the man’s fiery assistant.

He’d caught her in Stark’s tent two days past, wrapping the blasted man in linen and once she’d gone he’d sworn to the man that he would not mention such an indiscretion to his fiancé.

Watching them now though, he wondered if he should, just to get things moving.

But then again, they still had an interminable number of days to ride and dealing with a fuming and possibly murderous Rumiko Fujikawa who was just as intelligent, if not more so, as Stark was not the best way to complete such a dangerous mission.

Especially considering they had Hammer and his band of baddies to deal with.

Glancing at Barnes once more, he wondered if the Sergeant knew just who Hammer traveled with. Barton knew of course. He’d known the woman in black for years, had been at odds with her more times than he could count.

But Barnes…Barnes had been a captive with her in the Tsar’s prisons. Somehow they had gotten free, albeit scarred for their time in the freezing Siberian camps, and the man had defected to the Empire and ultimately to SHIELD and his Captain but Natasha Romanov?

She’d gone underground, gone to shadow.

There had been rumors when Barton had worked for SHIELD as a sniper and guide in the far West of the Spanish America’s that she worked for SHIELD but as a sleeper, an operative.

Now, considering who she rode with, it appeared those rumors had been false. How could someone working for SHIELD want to work for such an odious man like Lord Justin Hammer?

The man was as oily and disgusting as a toad and his daughter Justine actually resembled a toad.

Barton shuddered and flicked his butt away with a sigh.

The undercurrents of this group was fascinating. His gaze finally returned to the four riding ahead and he smirked.

Fascinating, sure, but pig-headed? Most definitely.

By the looks of things, Stark was arguing with his guide and his assistant and poor Dr. Banner was trying to keep the peace. As per usual.

With another glance over his shoulder to the two women riding peaceably along beside the Captain and the Sergeant, who were both keeping an eye on the three porters and six pack camels they had been allowed to bring, he determined everything was well enough despite the tension at the head of the line.

With a sigh he nudged his dark haired camel with his spurs and the great beast snorted and picked up pace, just in time for Barton to arrive and catch the tail-end of the argument the Lieutenant was not having with Stark but that Miss Potts was making sure to continue.

“Dr. Stark,” she was saying, her voice slightly impatient and Barton chuckled; he could almost hear her rolling her eyes from where he sat his camel. “We cannot stop until we reach the waystation,” she continued with a frustrated glance from behind her dark lensed goggles towards the bodyguard. “We need water, shade and an easily defensible position. There is none of that here on this trail and even the Nile has twisted off to the east. A few more hours and we will reach our stopping point. Please do not argue with the Lieutenant or myself. We will not lead you wrong.”

Stark sighed and shifted stiffly in his saddle; Barton’s eyes narrowed as he took in Stark’s pale cheeks and stiff stance. He knew what that meant.

“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to stop, madam,” he said, his voice mildly pleasant and the three of them jumped as their heads turned to acknowledge the newcomer.

Logan simply kept his eyes forward, his sharp gaze fixed on the faint glint of metal nearly two hundred kilometers ahead of them.

They could argue all they want, but his mission was to get Stark to Saqqara and Djoser’s damned pyramid before someone of questionable morals like Hammer could and by all the gods in this godforsaken country he would.

“We stop at the station for five hours,” he growled from his hunched position on his camel. The chattering finally stopped and he took a self-satisfied draw on his cigar. “After five hours we start riding and we ride until dawn and at that time we’ll pitch camp and sleep during the day. We’re nearing the tropical line and soon the days will be too hot. So sleep when you can, but we’re not stopping till we reach the waystation.”

Four sets of eyes watched him and he smiled to himself. He’d finally shut them up.

“I’m going ahead to scout around a bit. You love-birds can figure out sleeping arrangements on your own.”

And with that and a faint puff of dust, he and his camel were off, racing ahead to judge the distance between the company and the mysterious waystation they needed to rest in.

Barton glanced from each member of Stark’s company he rode with, silently noting Pepper Potts’ flustered blush at the Lieutenant’s words and Stark’s thoughtful glance in the direction of his assistant and he chuckled.

“So, waystation huh? What’s that exactly?”

Banner glanced at him, his eyes slightly concerned as he noted Stark’s uncustomary silence and the Potts girl’s blush and he cleared his throat.

“From what I’ve determined,” he said, his voice louder than normal as he sought to regain Stark’s and Potts’ attention, “It’s a stopping point for travelers, but only the travelers who know of its location. Is that correct Miss Potts?”

She jumped at his suddenly loud voice and cleared her throat. “Pardon, doctor? What did you ask?”

Barton’s lips twitched in a small smile as he watched her shaking hands stretch for her canteen to take a drink and he glanced at Stark who was still watching her in fascination.

“Banner asked if the waystation is a cushy hotel we can stop in for a pint and a shoe shine, Potts,” Barton asked as he leaned back in his saddle and drew level with the good doctor. His camel was too close to the other man’s for propriety but he had never been one to acknowledge the niceties of civilized Western society. He winked at Banner, who’s eyes narrowed behind the tinted lenses of the glasses he always wore to offset the bright light of the outside world and he continued, his voice husky as she bent closer towards the doctor. “Maybe it’s a place where we can get a lovely companion to share a bed?”

He chuckled to himself as the girl flushed a darker red and was about to continue when a sharp smack of a crop cracked against his knee and Banner growled in his ear, “Be quiet Barton. You’re being rude on purpose.”

“Maybe I am,” he whispered back, his head turning just enough so the other man’s bristly cheek could brush against his own.

Banner sighed and pushed the man lightly away, before turning his gaze back to Miss Potts, who had watched their antics with frank curiosity in her eyes. “I’m sorry about that Miss Potts,” he said as he pulled his camel away from Barton’s; as he neared hers he glanced at Stark whose eyebrow was quirked as high as it could go and he coughed politely before shooting a glare at the smirking bodyguard now a few paces behind them. “The heat is starting to affect him.” Barton snorted and Banner’s lips twitched in wry humor. “I’m afraid he spent far too much time in the sun in his youth in the traveling circus out in the West. Too much sun and not enough civilization. It’s a problem most of Dr. Stark’s acquaintances are used to.” He smirked at the now-frowning bodyguard and tipped his bowler hat in wry humor, “You learn to ignore him after a while.”

Miss Potts’ eyes had widened further and she glanced from scientist to bodyguard in intrigued surprise. “A circus?” she asked the bodyguard, who sucked his teeth and nodded minutely. “Oh my! That is really quite interesting Mr. Barton! What sort of act did you perform?!”

The American shifted in his saddle and shot a dangerous glare at a still grinning Banner. “I had an archery act,” he muttered, his tone slightly sullen but slightly proud as well.

“Oh really!” the young lady exclaimed as she slowed her camel to match pace with his. “Please tell me more!”

Banner chuckled to himself and glanced at Stark riding just ahead of him; he barely caught the man’s heavy scowl before Stark turned forward and kicked his camel into a tight circle so the man could drop behind the three of them The scientist shook his head as his friend rode off at a slightly faster pace and turned his ear back to the conversation Barton and Potts were having.

“…I could hit any target, moving or otherwise, with a bull’s-eye by the time I was ten,” the man was saying, his tone slightly smug as Miss Potts gasped. “By the time I was fifteen I could ride a horse, shoot a bow and throw a knife, splitting the arrow clean in half and strike the center of a barrel being rolled by two clowns from across the arena.”

“Oh my!” she said as her leather gloved hand rose to cover her mouth in surprise. “That must have been quite entertaining! You must have been the star of the show!”

Barton snorted and flipped his Bowie knife out of the holster at his left hip, not missing the young woman’s gasp as the wide blade flashed in the unbearable Egyptian sunlight, and began cleaning out the sand from under his nails; he shot a knowing smirk in Banner’s direction, quietly chuckling at the man’s put-upon sigh and said, “Nah, I wasn’t the star. There were acts far more impressive than my own. There was a girl who could shoot a Winchester rifle with her eyes blindfolded and she would hit every target spot on. Of course Annie was a telekinetic so it was an easy enough task for her. But still, the public didn’t need to know that. And then there was Buffalo Bill himself.” He sighed and flipped the knife casually before turning it so he could gaze at his reflection. “The man was a legend; decorated war-hero and half-wild, crowds would come just to hear the man’s voice as he announced acts.”

He tipped his head back with the knife and turned his head towards the white-blue sky above them and sighed. “He was like a god himself. Nothing any of us could do could ever compare to Old Bill.”

Banner could see Miss Potts hesitate and he stiffened, waiting for the inevitable question which would undoubtedly set Barton off; if there was one thing the man hated, it was talking about his past and the trouble he had gotten into thanks to a shadowy woman Banner knew only the barest minimum about. He wondered briefly if he should deflect the attention away from his friend but before he could, she was asking, “Can I ask what happened, Mr. Barton?”

Banner flinched as the knife slid home with a decided snikt of metal on leather and he waited for the blow-up.

Oddly enough, it did not come.

With a surprised glance at Barton, he noted the man’s thoughtful expression and the vague quality of his gaze. “I left the show,” he said slowly as he fiddled with the crossbow at his side. “It was in the coming, I suppose, and by the time I left I’d already made enough trouble for myself. Bill had been threatening to fire me for days for the different trouble making I’d committed and when I decided I’d had enough of riding around a ring I knew it was time to try my hand at real crime fighting.”

“’Crime fighting’?” she repeated, her voice surprised.

Banner nodded when Barton continued sucking his teeth. “Yes, from what he’s told me, his act was a Robin Hood type of persona, where he would ride the ring chasing bandits and shooting arrows in their backs and rescuing the damsels or treasure they had stolen.”

“It’s where the Hawkeye name came from,” Barton murmured.

Miss Potts’ eyes widened further and he sneered, his eyes cold. “Since I’m half-Indian, Bill said I got to have a name to match, just to make the whole thing that much more realistic.” he said, his voice harsh in the hot desert air. “So I went with it. Eyes like a hawk, caw caw!” he sang and she shivered at the harshness in his voice.

She was silent for a long while, thinking on his words and then she asked, her voice slightly hesitant, “But how did you come to work for Dr. Stark?”

Banner started to laugh and shook his head, “That is the longest story you could ever hope to hear Miss Potts.”

Barton nodded. “Yeah, sorry ma’am, it’s impossible and you’ll be bored to tears and you may fall off your camel, asleep.”

She frowned and shook her head. “Nonsense,” she said, her voice slightly scolding as she settled in her saddle, crossing her legs beneath her as she did so and she waved her hand. “We have a few hours yet before we reach our stopping point. I would like to hear this story.” She paused and cocked her head in the two men’s direction and her frown deepened. “Unless it is too painful, Mr. Barton. Then I would understand.”

Barton’s fingers continued fiddling with his crossbow and then he sighed; shooting a glance at Banner, who shrugged and smiled, he turned back to the young woman riding attentively at his side. “Oh all right, I guess I can tell you some of it.”

She smiled excitedly and drew her camel closer so she could hear him over the soft shooshing footsteps of their great beasts.

Before he started Barton glanced around the company to make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be. In the distance he could just make out the Lieutenant and he noted with slight annoyance that Dr. Stark was now riding with his cousin and fiancé, his face attentive as he listened to what the two women were saying; he also noticed the slightly hunched posture of his employer and the fist pressed against the man’s chest.

That didn’t bode well; but he couldn’t do anything about his bullheaded employer right at this moment. If there was sand in the gears of his damn heart then stopping in the middle of this wasteland would do nothing but make it worse.

With a sigh he glanced to their sides and saw that their other SHIELD escorts had dropped to their flanks, riding point while the Lieutenant was off and he sighed in relief.

They were safe. For now at least.

Turning back to the little girl with her unusual glasses and cleverly wrapped scarf he glanced at the dark eyed scientist she rode with. His eyes flicked in Stark’s direction and Banner nodded, his own suddenly troubled as he glanced at his friend behind them. Before she could ask what troubled them, Barton said, “I guess I have to start this stupid nonsense with Stark, right?” Banner nodded and he sighed again. “Great. I hate being reminded of how stupid I was back in the day.”

Banner chuckled, tipped his hat politely to their lady companion, flicked his crop gently over Barton’s knee and as the man jumped and shivered, turned his camel back so he could ride beside Stark. “Tzee-tzee!” Banner chirped as his beast snorted and Barton’s eyebrow rose, noting once more the smooth rock and roll of his friend’s back.

“That man,” he muttered as he turned his gaze forward. He glanced at the young woman next to him as she cleared her throat and he smiled. “Sorry, got caught up in my thoughts. What were we discussing?”

He knew. He was just hoping this little dame would have forgotten.

He should have known better.

She wasn’t a normal woman of means.

She was Stark’s damn assistant and partner.

He sighed

“We were discussing how you came to be under the employment of Dr. Stark, Mr. Barton,” she said as she leaned back in her saddle and turned her gaze to the sun above them.

He nodded. “Yeah, we were,” he grumbled as he shifted in the saddle. This was making him antsy and his fingers longed to hold his crossbow. He hated discussing his past with people; especially pretty women who were essentially strangers. “Right, first thing’s first,” he said as she turned to him. “Call me Clint. ‘Mr. Barton’ makes me doubly uncomfortable and second, swear to me you won’t tell Stark I told you this. He loves the thought of me owing him my salvation and it’s getting right old I can tell you.”

Her eyebrows, a lighter shade of red than her hair, which was currently braided and wrapped within the confines of her burnoose, rose and he couldn’t help a chuckle from slipping past his lips.

“If you haven’t noticed,” he muttered as he pulled the curiously engraved cigarette case from his pocket. “He’s a bit of an egotistical ass.” He offered her a cigarette which she politely refused and he shrugged as he lit up. “Well, where do you want me to begin?”

She frowned as the sweet smelling tobacco smoke rolled over her and turned her gaze to the desert ahead of them. “Start at the beginning I suppose, how you left the circus.”

Barton glanced over his shoulder once more and drew on the thin paper of the cigarette; as the nicotine rushed into his lungs he exhaled and muttered on the same breath, “I got hanged.”

She almost fell off her camel.

“What?! What did you say?!” she gasped as he hurried to steady her. She was staring at him, her eyes wide with surprise behind the dark lenses of the heavy brass goggles she affected and he couldn’t resist tapping the lenses thoughtfully. None of them understood her glasses, not even Stark and that fascinated him immensely.

“You heard right, little miss librarian. I was hanged and almost died.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asked as he righted her and she tightened her hold on the reins in response.

He shrugged and turned his gaze forward. “There was a woman, just like there always is.”

When nothing else was forthcoming she frowned and nudged him with the rounded end of her crop. “And?!” she asked, her voice insistent. “Who was she?”

He turned his gray eyes back to her and smiled. “You’re already met her.”

“I have?!” she exclaimed in surprise. “Whatever do you mean?”

He smirked and glanced to their left where Sergeant Barnes rode and nodded in the man’s direction, “You should ask him about her. He knows more than I do about her shadowy past. But I can tell you this,” he turned back to her and frowned when she opened her mouth to ask why she should talk to Barnes. “Her name is Natasha and she is far more deadly than any of the asps you’ve ever come across in your travels.” Seeing her continued confusion he leaned over in his saddle and muttered, “She was the woman in the black burqa at the lovely Hammer’s side. You probably didn’t notice her right off; she has a knack for hiding in the shadows and zapping you when you least expect it. Plus you had more on your mind than what kind of mercenaries Hammer was keeping company with.”

He straightened and took one last draw on the cigarette and exhaled as she said, “I remember her. Her wrists were glowing through the black and red silks she wore.”

“Yeah,” he said with a short nod. “That’s a nasty piece of work she stole from one of Banner’s friends years and years ago.” He flicked the cigarette away and reached for his canteen.

She frowned as she watched his throat work and she rested her chin on the palm of her hand. “Were they some of Tesla’s work? They looked rather like the cycles you left behind in Cairo.”

He coughed and sputtered in surprise and lowered the canteen. “How do you know about the Tesla Cycles?! Banner’s been keeping those secret since Nikola disappeared last year.”

She shrugged and fiddled with the watch chain draped across her waist. “Dr. Banner drove one when he collected me on the eve of our departure. They were rather magnificent. Are her bracelets the same type of arc power as the cycles?”

Barton’s eyes were wide as he watched the young woman and he shook his head, “Damn, are all of our secrets coming out now?”

He hoped not.

He could think of a couple people in this particular company that couldn’t afford the revealing of certain secrets.

“Oh no, don’t worry yourself over that Mr.…Clint,” she said in reassurance as she stretched out a hand to pat his knee. “I won’t say anything about the cycles nor even about the members of this company who bear clockwork devices on their persons.”

Her sunny smile was almost reassuring; he suspected if she wasn’t coated in sand and grit, it would have been charming.

As it was, it almost gave her a macabre appearance and he suspected if he were to grin just so, he too would look like one of the mummified kings of this dusty region as well.

He needed a bath.

They all did.

When were they going to arrive at the waystation?

“All right,” he said after a long, thoughtful moment. “As long as you swear you won’t go blabbing; Stark may be a bit of an ass and a highly public figure but that doesn’t mean he wants all of his secrets brought to light.”

He resided with a sigh and turned his gaze back to the sky; they rode like this, in silence, for quite a while and then finally she spoke, “What did the woman do? The woman in black?”

He glanced at her and shrugged, “She got into my head,” he said slowly, “I left Bill’s show and struck south to Texas where I heard a man could join the Rangers for decent pay but I got held up along the way in a town just south of the Texan border and found myself with a noose around my throat and a trapdoor opening beneath my feet.”

She gasped and he smiled; it was the one part of his story he loved telling.

“I was riding through Lonesome Dove, a few Wanted posters in my back pocket and the wide-eyed dream of becoming a Ranger or even a Marshall, in the back of my head and low-and-behold I stumbled upon a stagecoach robbery.

Three masked raiders, with Indian feathers tumbled down their back, rode in circles around the coach and I knew that was my chance. I leveled my bow at them but in the half-light I missed first one and then another.”

He laughed, the sound bitter and she shivered. “I shot the coachman and his footman,” he said with a glance in her direction. She gasped, the sound nearly lost in the heavy creak of leather and clodding footfalls of their steeds but he could see her mouth drop in horror.

“The next thing I knew I was being dragged by my bootheels into the muddy streets of Lonesome Dove and being deposited before the Sheriff. Nothing I said could vindicate me of course; being half-Indian and on the road for more days than I cared to remember, I was as dark as a full blood and the witnesses of the coach were convinced they had been robbed by Indians.”

He scratched his arm absentmindedly, his fingers bumping over the ridged scar there and he shifted in the saddle to remove his crossbow. He could feel her curious gaze on him and he smiled. “I was branded right where I stood, dripping mud, blood and tears and then I was thrown in the jail for hanging day.”

“Branded?” she asked, her voice only a bit shaky and he couldn’t help being impressed. The only lady who hadn’t fainted when he’d told his tail had been little Peg.

“It’s a Western tradition,” he said in explanation as he draped his leg over the horn of his saddle and cocked the crossbow, sighting along its length to make sure the glass vial at the head hadn’t been dislodged. It hadn’t. “In the West of the America’s they brand criminals, just in case, God-forbid, they get loose,” he said as he glanced at her. “It makes it easier for the tracking and containment of villains.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice weak. “I suppose that makes sense.” She cleared her throat, took a sip from her canteen and glanced at him, her gaze flicking from his face to his hands. He smirked and casually flipped the soft sleeve of his white cotton shirt up so she could see the outer edges of the tattoos he had gained while on the circus circuit and the raised edge of the brand he bore with a certain amount of pride. She swallowed and her cheeks paled slightly at sight of ink and brand. “How did you escape?”

He chuckled and settled the bow in his lap. “The Black Widow was also set to be hanged,” he muttered as he glanced over their company, absentmindedly making sure all was still well. “She was in the rope next to me, dressed in nothing but a corset and garters and as they set the noose around my neck I couldn’t help thinking she was the most amazing creature I’d ever seen. She stood with her dark red head high, her back straight despite her general state of undress and as I settled next to her she smiled and said ‘A good day to die, yes?’ and that’s when I knew I was in trouble.”

His companion leaned back in the saddle and frowned. “Well that wasn’t very ominous at all, now was it?”

Barton shivered and then nodded. “Yeah and before I could even react or ask what she’d done to deserve the gallows, there was a crash and we were plunging through trapdoors.” He cringed and rubbed his neck, memories of heavy hemp tightening on his windpipe haunting him, even now, years after the actual event had taken place. “My neck didn’t break; that should have been the first sign that something normal wasn’t occurring and as my vision started to gray there was the sound of a scuffle next door and I turned my body just in time to see a burly deputy go flying through the air and the gartered leg of my hanging neighbor strike out to catch a hold of the gaping door through which she’d fallen. To my utter amazement she pulled herself out, garters, corset and all and there was another scuffle, this time the sheriff flying through the air with his neck broken and I knew I needed to get the hell out of dodge.”

He chuckled and leaned back in the saddle, his fingers tapping idly along the edges of his bow and he glanced at her with a smirk on his lips. “I’ll tell you this much, acrobatics are hard when you’re hanging by your neck and you’re sure you’re going to die before you even get your foot up over your head.”

“How did you do it?” she asked, her voice soft with wonder.

“To this day I don’t know why she troubled herself with me; there’s a part of me that thinks she was lonely, a lone operative in a foreign country on the run with no hope of rescue until the job got done.” He shrugged and continued his story, “She pulled me out and cut the rope from my neck with my own knife; she’d used it to kill the executioner, the moment she emerged from the rope. I think he’d had it shoved in his belt; finders-keepers and all that. She’d pulled it from the deputy’s back right before getting me out of the hole.”

His fingers brushed the hilt of the Bowie knife at his side and he smiled. “Huh, kind of forgot about that,” he muttered. Then, shaking his head, he continued, “Next thing I know she’s pulling me into the town, which was dead silent now that their sheriff and all five of his deputies were dead and she’s shoving me into the jail telling me to get dressed.

I didn’t even pause to ask her name; all I knew was she’d killed at least six men in nothing but a red and black lace corset, possibly with one of her own goddamn garters since one was missing from her legs and I knew, knew I was in for one wild ride.”

“What had she done?” the Potts girl asked and he jumped ever so slightly, having gotten lost in his memories once more.

He smiled and shrugged, “She’d stolen something. Something powerful.”

“Oh…what?” she asked.

He glanced at her and then over his shoulder, “The Starks are inventors as you well know. When they had returned from Egypt twenty or so years ago, Howard Stark had begun work on a weapon of insurmountable power. It was something the world had never seen before, which of course made it even the more powerful. But it was never good enough, for father or for son, so by the time the Russian’s caught wind of it, Tony had turned it into a weapon of complete and utter destruction. ” He sighed and rubbed his face wearily. “Natasha’s superiors decided they wanted it, so they sent her in to retrieve the weapon and return it to Russia.”

“But…” she was confused, he could see it in her eyes. “What was it?”

“Ever hear of an anti-gravity ray?” When she gasped and nodded, he smiled, “She was after that gun; Tony had been getting ready to showcase it, to patent it but the Russian’s didn’t want that. They wanted it for themselves so she stole it of course, using all of her feminine wiles in the process, something Tony will never forgive. But she didn’t get far with it. She couldn’t control it, you see, and by the time the authorities had caught up to her, she’d leveled three towns in the southern Plains and Tony himself was en route to dismantle the device.”

In the distance they could see Logan sitting his camel, the soft sunset silhouetting him perfectly, while his body lounged across the saddle and his fingers tapping across the softly glowing brass of his trumpet.

“Looks like we’re nearly there, Miss Potts,” Barton muttered, sort of relieved that he wouldn’t have to continue his story.

But that was foolish of him.

“What happened next?” she asked and he turned to see her leaning towards him, her eyes glowing excitedly and he sighed.

“Oh very well,” he grumbled as he straightened in his saddle. “We holed up in the jail for half a day, surrounded by angry townspeople who had finally gathered enough courage to confront us about the deaths of their lawfolk and just when I was sure they were going to go after some sticks of dynamite to blow us out, we heard it.

Boot heels, coming slowly towards us.”

Seeing her shiver he chuckled. “We had tried to run away, to come up with a plan of escape of course, but she was wounded and I was piss-scared, having never really experienced a hanging before, and before we knew it the door was opening and he was there, surrounded by men in black uniforms, a towering monster of a man with an eyepatch and a metal leg.”

“Fury!” she gasped, surprised despite herself and he nodded, a smirk on his lips.

“Yup, the damn spymaster of the civilized West. He’d come for us, to offer us a choice. And I went over with nary a thought otherwise and Natasha didn’t.”

“What happened to her?” she asked, surprised and he shook his head.

“No idea. One moment she was being clapped in irons, the next three men lay twisted and half-dead on the ground, smoke rising from their coats, and she was running away, on the back of a stolen horse. I never saw her again, at least until Barnes there arrived in London with his arm near off and wild tales of double crossing on his lips and then again that night in the bar in Cairo. She’s shadowy, the Black Widow, and nothing can keep her pinned down. Not SHIELD, not the Tsar’s and certainly not Hammer. If he’s hired her as a guide…” he shook his head and cranked his crossbow up a notch. “It won’t end well for the man, nor for us.”

Before she could ask any questions about his impossible tale, the sharp walloo of the Lieutenant’s horn began to blow.

“Oh excellent,” snapped Stark’s voice from behind them. “Just in time. I was getting sick of listening to fairy tales.”

Both Barton and the Potts girl turned in time to see a dangerously glaring Stark pushing his camel forward and she snorted.

“Oh I’m sorry,” she snapped as he brushed past her camel, “Were we boring you Dr. Stark?”

“On the contrary,” he said with a disdainful sniff. “I just get sick of listening to Barton’s part of the story. He always manages to cast that bitch of a woman in a heroic light, all corsets this, garters that.” With a sharp jab of his finger in his bodyguard’s direction he grumbled, “Feminine wiles be damned the woman’s a menace and if I had known she was in that bar the other night I would have sent for the authorities and clapped her in irons myself.”

Then he was off, his camel kicking up more dirt and sand than absolutely necessary and they all sighed.

“So…how did you end up working for him again, Clint?” Pepper asked after a moment, her eyes narrowed behind her lenses and her lips pinched in a moue of disapproval.

He chuckled and rolled his shoulders. “He offered me another choice.”

“What was that?” she asked as she glanced at him.

“A cushy retirement,” he muttered as he kicked his camel forward.

She stared after him and then started to laugh, utterly amused at his response. “Oh my,” she murmured as she kicked her camel forward to meet the three men grouped together in the distance. “This will be interesting.”

**

Logan glanced around as the two men and the Potts girl arrived, one-by-one and nodded. “Miss Potts?” he asked as the young lady arrived at his side, her eyes narrowed as she took in the Nile stretching to their left and the dunes stretching before them; he saw her cock her head and she smiled as she closed first one eye and then another. “Remember this particular station’s code?”

“Code?” Stark sputtered as he turned his gaze to the stretch of sand they stood on. It looked no different than what they had crossed through the past day and a half; yellow and disgusting and as dry as a pharoah’s bones. They’d nearly killed themselves for this whatever this was? He couldn’t help feeling slightly bamboozled. “What nonsense are you talking about now?”

They ignored him, to a man. Peggy only chuckled as she arrived at the sides of her cousin and his bodyguard. She could not help rolling her eyes as her camel settled his head on the rump of Captain Rogers’. “More ancient tricks, Captain?” she asked as he glanced over his shoulder to her with a smile.

He only nodded and turned his attentive gaze back to the woman sitting next to him, her hands stretching out tentatively. “Yes, this is most definitely a waystation. Help me down.”

Barnes and Rogers hurried to help her, sliding from their own camels with faint ‘oomph’s’ as their feet connected with the shifting sands and soon Pepper’s camel was lowering itself to the sand beneath her; she dismounted with a sigh of pleasure and almost stumbled but she caught herself, using her camel’s wide head as a support. Glancing around, she took note of the shifting sands around them and the faint smell of burning ozone.

This was something out of memory, out of time and she couldn’t help the sharp flutter of excitement from darting up her spine.

“I think I know where we are, Lieutenant,” she murmured as she raised her eyes to the darkening sky above them. She shaded her gaze and her goggles’ lenses clicked audibly as she searched the skies for a particular star she knew only shone in this part of the world. Finally, she found it and she sighed in relief. Despite the obvious fact that they stood at a waystation, she had feared for a moment that they had missed it in their travels. “Ah yes,” she said as she pointed at a faintly glowing star that seemed to glow with a rainbow hue. “There’s the Yggdrasil star. We’re at the right location gentlemen.”

Then as the rest of their party watched, the soldiers at attention and their ward’s bodyguard stiffened, she took up a ridiculous stance with her toes resting against a thin ridge of stone that curved off into the distance in a vaguely circular pattern, and spread her hands.

As she bowed her head and pressed her body forward, almost as if she was resting against a rounded glass dome, Stark leaned towards the Lieutenant and hissed, “What in the damn hell is going on, Lieutenant? What is she doing?”

The man glanced at him and shrugged. “It’s a waystation. We’ll explain when we’re out of the sand. It’s not something we want to explain out in the open.”

Before Stark could say anything further, his assistant gasped and her head rocked back in surprise. “There’s somebody in the station Captain!” she exclaimed as her toes shifted against the ridge of stone circling off into the distance.

Suddenly all of the soldiers surrounded her, weapons to hand and the porters were surrounding the other two women, their tanned faces terrified as everyone fixed their gazes to the ridge of stone upon which Pepper Potts stood.

Stark frowned at this response and glanced at his bodyguard, who stood in his stirrups, his knee braced against the saddle horn and his cross bow braced against his shoulder. Banner was growling ominously, his eyes flashing iridescently in the half-light and Stark’s eyebrow rose.

“Right,” he said with a snort. “So something’s going on. Somebody’s here but we can’t see anything so we must assume they’re invisible. Right. I love this country.”

He settled with a solid thud in his saddle and Pepper hissed at him, “Be quiet Stark, I’m listening.”

Her hands were spread once more over thin air and his frown deepened. “What the blue blazes are you doing woman? You look absolutely ridiculous.”

She shot him another glare and then nodded to her three bodyguards. “I think it’s all right. Obviously the charms have held and the guardian trusts whoever is there. It may be a SHIELD outrider. Or it could be a returning archaeologist. You always said the intellects would never think this was anything but a bridge, Lieutenant.”

“Who is it?” the man growled, his claws glowing in the setting sunlight and she shook her head.

“I cannot tell,” she said slowly as she pressed her head against the air by her right hand. “Whoever it is they have the same air as the station, almost as if they are an extension of the thing itself.”

“The guardian?” Rogers snapped, his arm half extended towards her, his shield warding her back.

She shook her head. “No,” she said slowly. “He’s…” she frowned. “He’s conversing with those within!”

All of the men fell silent and then the Captain snarled, “Open it. We have to know who it is.”

She nodded, her gaze fierce and she straightened, once more stretching her fingers ever out towards the edges of the warding she pressed against; she could smell the burnt smell of its power and she knew, knew that if her hair was down, the static of the very thing would be wreaking havoc on her curls.

Memories of her first dig and her parent’s last, when she had traveled with her parents and their friend, the anthropologist of Norse mythos, Dr. Jane Foster, washed over her and she almost laughed out loud as she remembered the woman’s assistant showing her how to stand at the outer edge of the warding and let the magic draw her hair ever upward towards the peak of the dome.

 _Magic’s funny, isn’t it kiddo?_ Miss Lewis had said as she knelt in the sand beside a tiny Pepper. _You never know what it’s going to do. Better be careful though, don’t want your hair going all the way to Asgard_.

That was very true, she reflected as she rolled the heavy words of the code for this particular waystation over her tongue. Oh how I longed to see Asgard…

Finally the words were right and she sighed as they slipped one by one, almost unbidden off of her tongue.

_Åpen slik at jeg kan se deg._

Her eyes were closed, so she could not see the faint shimmer of the ward falling away but judging by the shocked gasps of Stark and his friends, she knew she had spoken right.

And judging by the sharp vibrations coming from the Captain’s shield and the definite whir of gears as Sergeant Barnes stiffened beside her, she knew she’d been right that their station had not been empty.

“By Valhalla!” boomed a voice that made her very teeth crack together in its fierceness, “Welcome to our feast! Come in come in! We will not harm you!”

She opened her eyes just in time to see a towering blonde haired man, dressed in the soft traveling clothes of an aristocrat and bearing a slender walking stick with a pewter hammer handle, rush towards her and she squeaked, backing a step away from the man’s charging figure; the moment her toes left the ridge of stone, the warding snapped closed.

The blonde man and his companions vanished from sight and she gasped.

“Oh I’m sorry!” she said as she glanced from the men around her to the blank air before her. “He took me by surprise and I forgot that I have to stay on the threshold or else the warding snaps closed.” She swallowed heavily and her hand stretched out to stroke the air, charged with the powers she had used and she muttered, “Do you think he’s all right?”

“I imagine so,” Rogers said, his voice slightly shocked as he stared at the point in the sand where the man had vanished. “Did…did anyone recognize that man and his companions?” he asked as he cast his gaze around the circle of shocked explorers.

Most shook their heads but Stark was frowning as he slid out of his camel’s saddle, his hand still pressed to his chest.

“I did,” he muttered as he stopped beside his shaking assistant. “Do whatever you need to Miss Potts, I want to see him again.”

“But,” she said weakly, her eyes wide as she gazed from the soldiers to the dark haired man at her side. “But what if he’s dangerous?”

“Oh he is,” Stark said with a sideways grin. She gasped and he clapped his hand to her shoulder. “He’s also a giant Golden Retriever puppy; he won’t hurt any of you. He’s a man of honor. Open that door again Miss Potts.”

She hesitated but seeing the Lieutenant’s slow nod and the Captain’s shrug, she nodded and turned back to the warding. Resting her toes once more on the stone she raised her hands, took a deep breath and whispered, her lips brushing against the charged exterior of the invisible dome, Åpen.

There was the faint sound of crackling electrons in the air and then she stood before the broad chested blonde man who was laughing and calling to his companions in a language she did not recognize.

Her eyes widened at the presence of a silver hammer in his hands and she almost retreated once more. But before she could, she and Stark were swept into the giant’s grip and he was bellowing, his voice vibrating under her ear in an eerily similar manner to the Captain’s shield, “Welcome Anthony! Welcome to our little paradise! Sif and I are most heartily pleased that you and your lovely betrothed could join us!”

Stark laughed breathlessly as the monstrous man hugged him against Miss Potts and he tried to ignore how his lower body pressed against her rump. “My friend, please,” he gasped as he felt his gears begin to truly protest this rough treatment. “Release us.”

“Verily!” the giant boomed and suddenly his grip was gone and Pepper stumbled against Stark, her toes still pressed against the line of stone she had stood upon.

“Sorry,” she muttered as he caught her. He only squeezed her shoulder in response and turned his gaze to his blonde friend who stood leaning upon his walking stick, hammer mysteriously absent.

“Well, you great blonde lummox,” he said as he approached the man who was still grinning at them, his blue eyes alight with excitement. “What are you doing here in this wasteland of all places? Odin finally kick you out of the palace?”

Before the man could respond, Captain Rogers barked, “Stark! Who are these people?”

Pepper turned her gaze from the blonde giant to the people behind him; she hadn’t noticed them in her shock but now that she did, she was rather surprised and chagrined she hadn’t before.

All three of them were stunning; there were two women, one as blonde as the man standing before her, the other as dark as the other, much slimmer and far calmer, man standing just to their side. His hand rested on the blonde’s shoulder and Pepper frowned at the horned ring he wore on the heart finger of his left hand.

Horns.

Then she glanced once more to the blonde and lowered her gaze to the walking stick he leaned on.

Hammer.

“Oh heavens!” she gasped as her hands rose to her mouth.

Stark smiled as he wrapped his arm around the blonde man’s shoulder and he turned to his own company, saying, “Stark Company, may I introduce you to the fairest travelers you will ever meet.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand in the direction of the blonde man and his companions and swept a bow.

“The Odinson’s. This is Thor and the brooding scholar in the rear is Loki,” he murmured as he straightened his eyes shadowed as he studied the golden prince’s younger brother.

There was a still silence Stark’s company struggled to remember their manners and then as one they bowed and curtsied, their heads lowering and a soft murmur drifted over the still desert air.

“Your highnesses.”

As Pepper straightened from her curtsy, her eyes settled on the blonde giant in front of her and she blurted, “Whatever are two Norwegian princes doing out in the desert without guards?!”

The blonde, the Crown Prince Thor, she realized with a jolt, smiled, wrapped his arm around her and beckoned for her company to enter the waystation. As everyone hurried to obey, lest he move her ere they could, he leaned into her and whispered melodramatically, “I’m looking for my lost lady love, fair maid!”


	12. A Moonlit Night of Kree

The Asgardian’s were certainly rowdy, Pepper reflected that night as she made her way towards the secluded twist of Nile she’d found earlier in the night.

Behind her, near the center of camp, her company and the Princes’ were carousing.

Loudly.

“Drinking Snaps,” the blonde prince had called it. “Your downfall,” the Lieutenant had growled as he left the fire to keep watch on the far end of the camp.

Listening to them now, bellowing a Norse drinking song as loudly as they could as they tossed back glass after glass of akvavit, she wondered if they’d be able to leave in a few hours time.

Judging by Dr. Stark’s swaying figure and Sergeant Barnes’ slurring, she highly doubted it.

“Oh well,” she murmured to herself as she arrived on the sloped banks of the Nile. “A bath will surely right this debacle.”

And a cup of tea would not be amiss either but that would have to wait. She must remember she was not in Cairo being waited upon by Butters. She was on a dig, the niceties must be forgotten.

Although, as she glanced around her to ascertain that she was truly on her own in this tiny secluded space and began to disrobe, she found she was greatly missing her copper tub with its motorized back rubber and automatic temperature adjustment.

Sighing, she dropped embroidered waistcoat, shirtwaist and burnoose to the ground and surveyed the quiet little pool she had been pointed to by Peggy Carter. The clear waters really did not compare to her bathtub.

At least it was a warm night.

Sighing, she began to unbutton her pants when there was a soft rustle of reeds beside her and she froze, her dishabille suddenly seen as a weakness in her mind.

“Who-who’s there?” she called, her eyes wide as she scanned the secluded pool.

No answer.

Frowning, she turned back to the tiny rows of jet buttons clasped at the front of her pants and continued the process of stripping down. Easing out of her boots, she scanned the now-silent reeds once more and sensing no disturbance, removed her pants.

Sighing as the sweet Egyptian air washed over her nearly naked figure, she glanced at the pool and grinned.

Then, with nary a backward glance, she took a few steps back from the edge of the pool and then launched herself over the water, drawing her legs tightly to her chest.

Her shriek of pleasure was lost in the splash of water as an unusual rainbow flash of light flitted along the edges of the warding surrounding their camp.

Pepper, being under the water, did not see nor did she smell the accompanying scent of singed ozone that drifted over the wind.

Nor did she notice the bright flash of golden light coming from the reeds just to her left.

She simply reveled in the warm waters washing the grit of hard travel from every nook and cranny of her body.

“This is heavenly,” she said to herself as she emerged from the waters and stretched out a hand for the little bit of soap she had left on the rocks bounding the pool.

The reeds rustled once more but she did not hear.

Perhaps there was water in her ear…

**

“Captain, we have an issue.”

Captain Steve Rogers glanced up from his shield at the sound of Logan’s tense growl and frowned. “What’s the issue Lieutenant?” he asked as he ran an oiled cloth over the soft leather braces at the back of his weapon.

Logan shifted, his dark eyes darting around the shadowed corner the Captain was sitting in and he tried to not notice the close proximity the man had to the ladies tent. He knew, from several days experience, his Captain would not sleep the night as long as Peggy Carter slept within the tent.

He tried not to mention that.

“The kid won’t like you dogging her, Cap,” he growled as he lit his cigar.

Rogers ignored him, instead focusing most of his attention to the shield in his hands. “The issue, Lieutenant,” he said, his voice mildly scolding. “Report, please.”

Logan sighed and ran one hand over the bushy sideburns on the side of his face before removing a thin slip of paper and handing that to his Captain.

“Telegram came in ten minutes ago. It’s from earlier today I think. You won’t like it.”  
Rogers stilled his oiling and flipped the yellow paper open. Holding it up to the lamp set at his left hip he read the lines typed there once, twice and then again, his eyes widening as he did so.

“Get Stark,” he snapped, his voice harsh in the Egyptian air. As Logan started to step out the circle of golden light, the Captain stopped him once more. “And you’d better find Vir-Pepper Potts. She’ll want to know this as well.”

Logan’s eyes sparked knowingly as he executed a quick salute and then he was gone, striding into the shadows lining the camp and making his way towards the fire and still singing group of people at the center of the camp.

Most of the women had retired, long before this, but Thor and Stark were still going, their voices just as loud as they had been an hour previous.

The dark prince Loki was nowhere to be seen.

Barnes had first watch and was walking steadily along the edges of camp, his metal fingers flexing as he strode along; Logan was pleased to see the man’s steps were steadier now that he was sobering up.

Nothing like the brutal first watch to get a man right on his feet.

“Stark,” he growled as he emerged from the shadows; both men jumped and turned wild eyes to him, their voices trailing away as they focused on the scowling Lieutenant. He glared at the leader of his company and cocked a single eyebrow. “Could I get a word, bub?” he asked as he bent to haul the aristocrat upright.

Stark did not get a chance to respond as the Lieutenant hauled him from the circle; instead he saluted the blonde prince and bellowed, his voice only slightly slurred, “Farewell sweet prince! I’m off to be scolded by mother!”

“Ware the wooden spoon, brother!” the Prince bellowed back, laughter in his voice. “I shall await your return!”

Logan rolled his eyes as he deposited the rumpled civilian at Rogers’ feet and growled, “I’ll find Potts.”

Both men watched him as he once again faded into the shadows, headed in the direction of Miss Potts tent and then Rogers sighed before turning to Stark.

“Good evening, sir,” he said, wry amusement in his voice as he stood and pulled a chair up for the still dangerously swaying Stark. “Enjoying yourself?”

Stark snorted and plopped into the chair, his head lolling back as he closed his eyes and pinched his nose. “Well, I was Captain,” he grumbled as his other hand rose to press absently against his chest. “But I’m finding the current company slightly lacking from previous carousers.” He tried to ignore the stuttering of that one little gear deep in his chest but it was growing difficult the longer he did.

Anthony Stark had never had much of a high pain threshold.

Nor the patience to deal with it.

“What’s this about Cap?” he muttered as he set his head down on the palm of his hand and hunched defensively over his chest. “Why’s the Wolverine look like the world’s going to end?”

Instead of answering, the Captain thrust a piece of yellow telegram paper under his nose and Stark’s eyes widened.

“A telegram?!” he sputtered as he took the paper reverently from the other man. “How the devil did you manage that in this waste?”

The Captain did not answer, simply took up his shield once more and began running a cloth over the grooves of the metal, removing any sand from its crannies. Glancing up, he saw Stark still staring at the folded paper and he almost smiled.

“Read it Stark,” he muttered as he lowered his head once more. “We’ve had a change of plans.”

Stark sighed. “Again? How am I not surprised.”

And then he flipped the paper open.

“What the devil?!” he gasped as he read the lines typed there.

_Rogers <stop> Regards<stop> Change of mission <stop>Hammer team pulling ahead<stop> Sending assistance in form of S Munroe team<stop> P Parker included<stop> Due to arrive 15 May 1880 <stop>Possible advantage gained<stop> Accommodate as best possible<stop> Good luck<stop> Cairo_

Before the Captain had a chance to respond there was a ripple of rainbow light along the edges of the camp, partnered with the now familiar smell of singed ozone and then as Stark and Rogers stood, their eyes wide, another flash of light, this one as bright as the Egyptian sunlight, flashed over the camp.

“What the hell is that?” breathed Stark as he began to run, his steps surer now, despite the alcohol burning in his veins and that damned stuttering gear deep within his chest.

“SHIELD,” snarled the Captain as he followed the aristocrat. “Blast it all, they’ve come in on the wrong side of the warding.”

Another flash struck the darkness and as he ran towards the Nile, Rogers swore the ground rocked beneath his boots.

“What the hell?” he whispered. What had come to their camp? What was currently emerging from the Nile?

Ahead of him, Stark vanished into the reeds and he could see the blonde Norse Prince swinging his unusual walking stick as he waded through the weeds catty corner to Stark, making his slow way towards the Nile; but that was not what concerned Rogers.

What captured his attention was the girl with blonde hair and glowing hands suspended in the air, silhouetted by bright golden light.

Somehow…he didn’t think she was exactly SHIELD issue.

**

Pepper Potts was face to face with a Kree warrior.

The woman was blonde, which in-and-of-itself was not unusual but the gold glowing eyes and the unusual black tattoos crawling over her skin gave her an exotic look Pepper had only seen once when she visited the Amazonian jungles of South America.

“Fascinating,” she breathed as the woman hovered in the air a few feet from where she stood upon the Nile banks, half dressed. “You are Kree but you do not look Kree, how is that possible?”

“Mind your own business,” snapped the woman, her eyes blazing as she threw yet another fireball into the air, lighting the pool they stood by in stark brilliance. “Are you from the Stark expedition?”

Pepper hesitated but seeing the woman’s frown and the panic in the way she kept glancing over her shoulder towards the outer ring of the warding, nodded. “Yes I am, I’m Pepper Potts-Virginia Potts actually. I’m Dr. Stark’s assistant and partner.” She paused as the woman’s fists rose once more, the golden light writhing as she prepared to cast another fire ball. “Who are you?” Pepper asked as she bent cautiously to gather up her boots.

The Kree sighed. “I’m with SHIELD,” she said, her voice brusque as she turned once more to glance over her shoulder. “Sort of.”

Pepper frowned and began to button her shirt. “’Sort of with SHIELD’?” she repeated curiously. “That’s fascinating. How did you find us?”

The Kree sighed and snapped, “Look, love the small talk but I have an issue. Where’re Stark and this Captain Rogers you’re traveling with? I’m only supposed to report to them.”

Pepper started to say the Captain and Stark were back in the camp when suddenly the latter tumbled through the reeds with a muttered curse and skidded to a halt into Pepper, taking her by surprise.

“Dr. Stark!” she gasped as she swayed dangerously upon the bank, her bare toes digging into the sand covered rock of the bank as she strove to keep from tumbling backwards into the pool she had only just emerged from.

“Pepper!” he gasped as his arms wrapped tightly around her. “The devil take it! What are you doing here?!” He didn’t release her right off.

Their faces were terribly close to each other’s.

The Kree warrior still hung in the air, her golden powers casting the pool in soft shadows as she gazed impassively at Stark and his assistant.

“Well,” she grumbled as she began to descend from her tense position a few feet off the ground. “Stark’s here. Where’s the Captain?”

Again, there was very little chance of explanation for at that very moment the afore-mentioned man appeared, skidding similarly across the bank as his boots tried to find purchase in the sand; ultimately he failed.

“Blast!” Pepper swore as the Captain connected with Stark’s shoulders, his much higher body mass causing both doctor and assistant to slide dangerously towards the waters glittering from the Kree’s powers. “Nobody move!” she gasped as her heels touched the very surface.

Both men stared at her, their eyes bright with mischief and worry and she sighed. “Please, nobody move,” she muttered as she leaned into Stark and tried to move her feet just so so she could find better purchase; she almost succeeded. At least, she wasn’t teetering with her back arched and her hair tumbled over her shoulders to drift across the water any longer.

She was pressed terribly close to Stark though; his warm chest was tight against hers and she could feel the vibrations of the turning gears in his musculature in a truly disturbing manner.

It set her exposed skin on fire.

Heavens! She thought to herself. This is terribly indecent.

But she really couldn’t move.

Not unless she wanted to take them all into the pool with her.

She could feel the Captain trying to slide his feet back, to gain better purchase, but they were so off balance any little movement threatened to dump them head over heels into the waters.

He huffed in irritation as his feet skidded and Pepper gasped and scrabbled at Stark’s waistcoat in response as one foot slid off the bank and into the water. Stark’s hands tangled into her blouse and he yanked her upright, nearly tipping himself over.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered in her ear as her cheek pressed against his ticking chest. “Hold still…”

She did.

“Captain Rogers,” the Kree was saying from overhead, her voice stiff as she continued to watch the three struggle, with impassivity in her gaze, “I’m Caroline Danvers, recently of Bolivia and far more recently of Cairo. I’ve been sent with a special team of SHIELD agents to aid you in your mission but we seem to have come across an obstacle.” She flicked a fireball in irritation at the edge of the pool where the boundaries of the warding separated it from the rest of the Nile and she sighed as the rainbow lights flitted once more in response. “It seems, I am the only one who can enter this camp.”

She was frowning, obviously troubled by this thought and Pepper chuckled as she craned her head back to meet the woman’s golden gaze.

“It’s the Kree powers you possess, I imagine madam,” she said. “The magics are similar to that which guards this particular site. Nothing to be wary of.”

The woman started to reply but at that moment a great bellow issued to their left and a voice raised in a Norse battle cry rocked the little grotto they stood in.

“Oh no,” breathed Stark as he turned his gaze towards the reeds. “Thor.”

“No!” all three shouted, their eyes widening as the reeds began to wave and tremble. “Thor! Stop!”

It was too late though.

Pepper flinched as the great Prince burst from the reeds, his hammer headed walking stick spinning and Stark could swear he heard her whisper, “Blast,” as the Prince tripped over the bank and smashed full frontal into the three people teetering dangerously upon the bank overhanging the once peaceful pool.

“My apologies!” he bellowed as first Pepper and then Stark toppled into the cool green waters. “This sand is most quarrelsome my friends!”

As he emerged from the waters, Stark was greatly disgruntled to see the Captain standing at ease beside their unusual visitor. He had not fallen into the pool.

How…irritating.

“Blast it all!” sputtered Pepper as she bobbed to the surface. “My hair’s wet again.”

Stark turned to see his assistant looking quite the bedraggled little thing and began to laugh.

“Look at it this way, Miss Potts,” he said as he wrapped his arm around her waist and began pulling her gently towards the bank they’d fallen from. He could not help being pleased when she did not pull away from his touch. “You’re well and truly clean now. Absolutely no sand upon your person now!” His chuckle echoed all around them and the blonde Prince laughed as he bent to pull first the slender red-head and then his dark haired friend from the waters.

“My apologies madam,” he apologized as he lifted her easily, rather like a father would lift his daughter from a tub, much to her chagrin. “I feared you were in danger and misjudged my speed and the slope of the marsh I ran in.”

Pepper sighed and began to wring the excess water from her hair; she did not notice the pointed gaze Stark shot her as she did so.

Although, how could she have known that the Kree woman’s golden energy served to light her body in such a way that left very little to the imagination as to how shapely her figure truly was.

“Where is your team, Miss Danvers?” she asked as she turned to the Kree.

The woman shifted and the golden film surrounding her slender figure dimmed, ever so slightly. “I left them just over there,” she said as she pointed one gloved hand in the direction of the marsh. “Sergeant Munroe misjudged the entrance and I think we overstepped a bit. Considering where I’m standing now I’d say it’s safe to say this isn’t the warding’s entrance?”

Pepper chuckled. “Well,” she said as she eased around the pool and approached the thin ridge of granite which bounded it, separating the grotto from the rest of the mighty Nile. “As long as you possess the powers or the right words, you can enter from any point in the warding. It’s not terribly selective, but you never know quite what will be on the opposite side of the boundary. You entered here, correct?”

She was deep in the reeds now; just the top of her head could be seen but her voice carried easily.

Caroline Danvers followed her, her eyes only lit by a soft golden glow now and all noticed her beauty ran far deeper than the tattoos or the unusual golden glow that had previously surrounded her figure.

She was a stunning woman, even without the obviousness of the Kree powers she possessed.

“Yes, that’s it. The reeds are burnt.” Her voice was soft as she stretched out gloved fingers to stroke the still smoking reeds and she chuckled. “It took me by surprise; first I was standing listening to the Parker boy blabbing about his new camera and the next my hair was twisted in reeds and my feet were sinking in muck.” She smiled wryly as she glanced at Rogers, Stark and Thor and she shrugged. “I may have overreacted a bit.”

All of the men stared at her with something like terror in their eyes as they took in the wide circumference of singed reeds and the sound of Stark’s nervous gulp was loud in the silence.

Then, Pepper was speaking, her voice soft and reverent as she bent her face towards the warding, her fingers spread as if against a convex lens of glass.

_Åpen slik at jeg kan se deg._

There was a faint ripple of rainbow light, the familiar smell of burnt ozone and then suddenly they were facing the wide delta of the Nile and three people gathered around an unusual machine balanced on a camel’s back.

“Holy smokes!” gasped a young man with unusual spectacles sitting askew on his nose as a woman with unusual white hair and dusky skin swore in a foreign dialect.

Her hands were wrapped around a globe of glass set atop the machine; it was currently swirling with an odd white light, almost like moonlight. Pepper could not help noticing how full the moon suddenly was overhead and she wondered, briefly, if it had always been thus.

She was fairly certain the sky had been overcast for most of her bathing expedition.

“Carol!” gasped a young blonde girl as she threw herself over the boundary to wrap her arms around the Kree woman’s neck. “Oh thank heavens you’re all right! We were getting so worried!”

Rogers sighed as he took in the three SHIELD agents standing before him and he grumbled, “Dr. Stark, Prince Thor Odinson, may I introduce you to Sergeant Ororo Munroe, Sergeant Barbara Morse and Private Peter Parker.” His eyebrow rose doubtfully as the soldiers scrambled to salute their commanding officer, their voices stumbling over each other’s as they tried to explain what had befallen them on this mission. “Some of SHIELD’s very best operatives,” he finished as he swung his shield over his shoulder.

He almost smiled as Peter Parker’s reverent gaze settled on Dr. Anthony Stark, who stood just behind Pepper Potts, his hand half suspended as if to pull her away from the warding. He ground his teeth and turned away, suddenly deciding he’d pair the kid with Stark; maybe the incessant chatter would drive the man crazy.

“Surely this mission is saved because of them,” he grumbled petulantly as he headed out of the marsh back towards camp.

Thor glanced from the Captain, to the newest arrivals and finally to Stark, who stood at his side, a smirk on his lips.

“I do not understand,” he said, his booming voice puzzled. “His words were most endearing, but his tone of voice seemed to call to mind doubt as to how truly exceptional these soldiers are. Have I misunderstood his Western vernacular?”

Stark chuckled as the newest arrivals began to slip over the boundary and he clapped his friend on one massive bicep.

“Don’t worry about it Thorwald,” he said as he proffered his arm to his assistant. She took it as the very last camel crossed the granite line and the boundary snapped closed the moment her toes left the granite circle. He smiled at her and said over his shoulder to the still puzzled Norse prince. “Captain America just has some pretty high standards. You’ll get used to it. Gods know I have.”

His chuckle drifted over the reeds and the blonde prince sighed.

“Westerners. I will never understand their sense of humor, I fear.”

And then he too left the marsh that lined the very edge of the warding.

His walking stick shone brightly in the moonlight that suddenly overhung their campsite.

“Most unusual turn of events,” he mused as he drifted towards his tent. He could not wait to tell his brother what had occurred.

Loki would be most pleased.


	13. The Trouble with His Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as terribly long but a lot happens in this chapter so I'm not feeling too guilty.
> 
> I'll try and update again tomorrow or Wednesday depending on how busy I am!
> 
> Love to all.
> 
> -M

They were going to blow the _Lady Beatrice_ out of the sky.

That, at least, was the gist of SHIELD’s orders for the latest arrivals to Stark’s company of adventurers. Somehow, they were going to bring a modern airship of stunning technological efficiency out of the skies and that was going to give him an advantage.

He couldn’t help laughing at that in the depths of his tent as his heart stammered and his clothes clung to him in clammy patches.

“And pray tell,” he gasped as he leaned back in his chair and met the calm gazes of Sergeant Munroe and Captain Rogers, “how is this miracle going to happen?”

Ororo glanced at her Captain who nodded minutely and sighed. Bending, she set the elegant leather bound case at her feet on the desk before Stark and Potts and sprung the locks.

“With this,” she said as she opened the case, revealing the stunningly beautiful clockwork device glinting innocently there in the portable Shelby lights.

Pepper Potts gasped and leaned around Stark, her still-damp hair tumbling over her shoulder as she did so and she whispered, “Ororo, is that-is that an Xavier _Weather Machine_?!”

Her eyes were wide as Ororo nodded, a small smile on her lips and she had to resist stroking the device. “How amazing! I have only ever seen one of these devices up close once before and it wasn’t anywhere near this impressive! You must be able to summon typhoons or even blizzards with this mech!”

Ororo chuckled. “I haven’t gone so far as summoning hurricanes or tornadoes of course, I only just received it a few weeks ago. I’m still getting used to it.”

Rogers snorted and rolled his eyes as he folded his arms. “Fury mentioned you froze his oranges in a second telegram. He said that if you were to use the machine you should be as far from our group as possible just in case you whipped up an impenetrable fog or a sandstorm just for us.”

His voice was tight with barely contained laughter and the Sergeant flushed as Pepper chuckled. “You froze the Colonel’s oranges?” she gasped. “He must have hated that!”

Ororo sighed. “I didn’t do it on purpose, of course,” she muttered. “I was simply experimenting with it and got some of the words wrong.”

“’Got some of the words wrong’?” Stark asked as he inspected the inner workings of the machine, the brass humming against his fingers. “Explain, Sergeant.”

She hesitated briefly and then shrugged. “It’s a mix of mech and alchemy, doctor. While it runs like a machine, as you can see with the brass and copper clockwork, it needs alchemy to summon the elements represented by the metal.” She sighed and fiddled with the tiny gold key hanging from her neck. “Each weather pattern has a corresponding Latin phrase needed for a summoning. And I’m not terribly good at Latin. Sometimes…” she coughed weakly into her hand with a sheepish grin as Stark’s blue eyes turned in her direction. “Sometimes I get the words mixed up.”

“Ah,” Stark murmured as he pushed the machine away from him with the tips of his fingers. “Let’s hope you have been practicing while off gallivanting in the desert while trying to catch up with us.”

She nodded, her gray eyes sparkling. “Oh yes, I have been. Peter’s been helping me. He speaks extraordinary Latin. He was the one who helped me summon the moonlight tonight.”

Stark’s dark brow rose as Pepper gasped in surprise but he didn’t deign either woman with a response. Instead, he stood and turned to the Captain.

“Is this the only way? Is this what we have to do, Cap? Summon the elements to teach good ole Justin a lesson?” He paused, his eyes narrowing as the blonde American shifted warily and continued with a low hiss, “We have to _cheat_?”

Both of the SHIELD agents were silent, their eyes lowered and their shoulders stiff and he snorted. “I see. Well that’s just bloody wonderful.” His hand rose to rub at his forehead and as Rogers opened his mouth to spout some encouraging horse shit he shook his head. “No, don’t say anything. I want you to get out. All of you! I need to think about this.”

Ororo frowned and glanced at Pepper Potts who sighed and shook her head. _Give him time_ , she mouthed as she snapped the weather machine’s case closed and handed it back to its owner.

Together the women began to head out of the tent, following a stiff-backed Captain Rogers, but Pepper stopped as Stark barked, “Miss Potts, you’re still needed.”

“Go on,” she whispered to Ororo. “I’ll see you and Bobbi in a bit.”

The Sergeant hesitated a moment, her sharp eyes taking in the younger woman’s slight flush and Stark’s dark-eyed gaze as he stared at his red-haired assistant and then she nodded. “Be careful Virginia. He’s looking a bit peeved.”

Pepper nodded and smiled weakly. “I’ll be fine. Go on now.”

Then as Ororo slipped out of the tent and made her way to the SHIELD quarters, her case snug in her arms, Pepper turned back to Stark, a small frown wrinkling her brow.  
“Whatever is the matter now Dr. Stark?” she asked as she folded her arms under her breasts. She tried to ignore the clammy feeling of her clothes and wondered briefly if she would ever be able to get any sleep tonight. It was almost three in the morning. They would be leaving at four, if the Lieutenant had his way.

Stark was staring at her, his gaze indecipherable and she couldn’t help shivering. “Dr. Stark?” she asked, her voice weak under his dark consideration. “Is everything all right?”

“No,” he snapped. Then, impossibly, he was saying as he prowled towards her, “Let me see your hands Potts.”

“M-my hands?” she repeated as she retreated a step from his approach. “Why ever do you want to see my hands?!”

“I want to see how tiny they are,” he growled, his blue eyes blazing as he stopped a few inches from where she stood with her back to the tent’s entrance. He stretched out his hands and waggled his fingers in invitation, his eyes glinting dangerously and she sighed after a moment.

“Very well,” she muttered as she set her hands gently in his. “Although, why you need to see my hands I will nev-“

“They’re perfect,” he growled as he tugged her in the direction of his cot. “You’re just what I need.”

“Dr. Stark!” she gasped as she caught sight of where they were headed. “Whatever are you doing? This is highly improper!”

He only snorted and sagged to the mattress, removing his ascot as he did so. “Don’t get your petticoats all in a bunch, Potts,” he snapped as he whipped the stained silk free, letting it fall to the ground beside his boots and moved on to the fine ivory buttons of his shirt. “I just need your assistance with a personal matter.”

She was frozen, her hand still suspended midair from where he had released it suddenly and her eyes were locked on the sight of him undressing before her.

“W-what are you doing?!” she exclaimed weakly as the fine silk of his shirt parted and he shrugged out of the heavy embroidery of his waistcoat. “Oh god!” she gasped as she clapped a hand over her eyes at the sight of his finely muscled chest with its mech apparatus glinting cheerfully in the lamplight. “Please, Dr. Stark, clothe yourself!”

She was shaking, her mind stunned at the sight of brass and solid flesh and she could swear she had been doused in fire for her skin burned and thrummed at the thought of him sitting half-naked before her.

She’d seen him thus before of course but this was so sudden, so unexpected and she had barely known the man back in Cairo. Now though, she’d ridden at his side and mapped routes with him and seen his eccentricities first hand.

This was far more intimate than a drunken reveal in a shady hotel room.

Far more…dangerous.

Her heart was racing, filling her ears with the heavy pound and rush of blood and she did not notice him rise to approach her until he was gripping her hands gently and pulling them from her eyes.

“Miss Potts,” he said, his voice soft, “please look at me.”

She clamped her eyes shut.

“No,” she whispered with a stubborn shake of her head and he snorted gently, his breath warm on her knuckles.

“Please?” he asked, his voice pleading now.

His scent, warm and musky despite his impromptu dip in the Nile only an hour previous, washed over her as his callused fingers chafed her own shaking hands and she could not keep her gaze shuttered from his any longer.

Her eyelids fluttered open as she sighed and he smiled.

“Hello,” he muttered as he stroked her tumbled bangs from her eyes with one finger. He still kept her hands tightly clasped in his. “Are you ready now Miss Potts?”

“What do you need me to do, Dr. Stark?” she asked weakly, her eyes held captive by his and a deep shiver darted up her spine at the flash of dark knowledge in his eyes.

 _Not that_ , she hissed to herself. _Put a stop to that right now Potts!_

But he didn’t say anything, simply shrugged out of his shirt and plopped back onto his cot, still clasping her hands in his.

His eyes were intent on hers as he set her fingers against the brass framework set in his chest and she shivered at the resultant vibrations that trembled through the pads of her fingers. “I need you to fix me Pepper,” he whispered, his voice husky in the heavy silence of the tent.

“Fix you Dr. Stark?” she whispered as she took a shaky step towards him. “How?”

His lips twitched up in a smile but he resisted making a joke that would surely set her off. “I have a damaged gear buried in my chest, Pepper,” he said with a sigh. “I need you to remove and replace it.”

Her eyes widened in horror at his words and she began to shake her head. “Oh no! Surely I’m not qualified!” she gasped as she tried to back away from him. He still held her though, somehow knowing she would run the moment he told her what was wrong. “Please Dr. Stark! Let me find Dr. Banner or even Madam Fujikawa! I-I can’t!”

He simply tightened his hold on her and pulled her gently towards him so she stood with her boots toe-to-toe with his own and her slender torso bent over him so her hair tumbled around their faces.

“Yes, you can,” he whispered as he gazed into her panicked blue eyes. “You’re my assistant and you are absolutely qualified for this job! Never doubt that, Miss Potts. You will always be able to fix my heart.”

Her mind was stunned at his words.

Absolutely and totally stunned.

“Dr. Stark,” she whispered as he leaned back on the cot, baring his chest for her eyes. She shivered as he freed one hand to stretch over his head to grasp a mahogany box of stunning craftsmanship sitting on the camp table at the head of the bed and set it on his flat belly. She tried to ignore the sight of his sharp hipbones edging out of his slacks or the dark trail of hair leading from his navel to disappear under his waistband but it was terribly difficult.

She felt her cheeks warm and she swayed dangerously as her vision spun out of control; he chuckled as she groaned before tugging her gently with one hand so that she sagged to the edge of the cot. She couldn’t help but shiver as her right hip settled against his.

 _This is so terribly improper_ , she thought to herself. _So very, very improper. What am I doing?!_

A little sob slipped free of her lips and she half-rose in panic but he stopped her, his hand settling on her hip as she twisted free of his grasp.

“Easy Potts,” he said softly as he flipped open the box to reveal row-upon-row of brass gears in various sizes and styles. “You’ll do fine.”

Then, as her panic grew, he handed her a specialized tool, at once a screwdriver and pliers, and folded his hands behind his head, providing her a clear view of just how expansive his mechanized heart really was.

It was stunning.

She gasped and she could barely resist running her fingers over the shimmering brass frame of the mech spread before her.

He shivered at her delicate touch and his eyes fluttered closed in response to her soft exclamation of, “Holy god!”

“Yes,” he whispered. “Holy god indeed.”

Pepper did not know how he was still alive.

The brass clockwork ticked contentedly away from collar bones to fifth rib; from right pectoral to left and she wondered if those gears kept his lungs pumping as well as his heart beating.

It was stunning in its complexity and terrifying simply for existing.

Somehow, he survived by the grace of impossible mechanical skill and that more than anything spoke of his genius.

“How?” she whispered as her fingers continued to run over the framework, making his skin twitch in response and his eyes darken with misplaced desire. “How is this possible?”

His lips lifted in a bitter smile and he set her hands to an ebony switch set just under his collar bones. “How about you find out, Miss Potts?” he asked as he pressed her fingers to the switch. She paled as he snapped it off and his blue eyes flashed open as his lips lifted in a dark grin. “You have three minutes.”

She raised terrified eyes to his and as his cheeks paled and his breath grew more labored, she pulled her mother’s goggles out of her pocket and snapped them over her eyes, automatically adjusting them so they magnified the scores of tiny gears ticking away in his chest.

She tried to ignore the multitudes of questions or worries she had.

Now was not the time to understand just how his heart worked.

First she had to fix him.

Then she could question him.

“I believe I’ve found the gear,” she said a few moments later, her fingers buried in his chest and several abandoned gears sparkling on his stomach. His eyebrows only rose a few inches and he tried to ignore his heart as it stammered and the old, familiar ache began to grow in his lungs as they started to collapse.

But he did not panic as she selected the correct replacement from his kit, her eyes thoughtful as she studied the tiny teeth of the gear in the stark light of the lamp she had moved towards him at the beginning of this session.

Somehow…he did not panic.

His blue eyes were shadowed as he gazed thoughtfully at her face, pinched in concentration and he longed to know what was going on in that beautiful head of hers. He could almost see the questions rising in her eyes to be cast aside as she focused on the important task of repairing him.

He could see the wonder as her fingers reverently stroked his mechanized innards.

Never had he seen that before, not even when he and Bruce had first built this apparatus to replace the steam pump he’d had to carry around in a satchel at his hip after returning from the Afghans. Bruce had always looked at the gears as proof as to how exactly broken Anthony Stark truly was.

He had never touched his mechanized heart since then.

And Peggy had refused, saying it was an abomination to her League oath.

For her and the League he was neither automaton nor was he entirely human.

To his friends and his lovers, he was an abomination.

But here in this tent, with Pepper Potts bent over him, her fingers placing him tenderly back together, for the first time in a very long time he began to feel like something more than an abomination.

He began to feel human.

“Thank you Miss Potts,” he whispered, his fingers rising to toy with a strand of her soft red hair that had tumbled free of the haste-knot she had placed it in before bending to work on him.

She glanced at him, her eyes magnified hilariously to twice their size and her lips lifted in an absent smile. “Of course Dr. Stark,” she whispered as her fingers pressed once more to the switch at his fragile collar bones. “It was no trouble.”

And then she snapped his heart back on.

With over a minute to spare.


	14. A Possible Advantage

Rumiko was furious.

Well, not exactly furious.

Frustrated was the more appropriate term for what she was feeling right now.

She had lost Peggy.

Somewhere in this little circle of desert the young cousin of Anthony Stark lurked and if Rumiko had anything to say about it, once she was found she’d finish out the duration of this voyage in tightly bound corsets and starched linen.

In the distance she could hear the Asgardian’s chatting amongst themselves around their campfire and ahead of her she could see the SHIELD liaisons grouped around a map spread across a camp table. Somehow…there were more of them.

Frowning as she edged closer to their little circle, her ears perked as the Lieutenant growled, “We’re going to have to get you closer to Hammer, Ororo. I highly doubt even you will be able to attack him from this distance.”

A white haired woman of African descent she vaguely recognized, sighed and shifted into the lamplight spilling around the four soldiers clustered about the table. “Last intelligence from Fury’s agent said Hammer was in Massara. That was this morning. I’d say it’s safe to assume the ass has bedded down there for the night. He’s been sticking to the river, to the inns along the way. It looks like his daughter has been throwing a fit about sleeping in that boat of theirs.”

Rumiko couldn’t resist any longer. “Justine Hammer will slow him down,” she said as she eased herself into the circle of firelight. All of the soldiers stiffened as one and turned to her, surprise in their eyes. She shifted slightly and fiddled with the soft silk of her kimono. “I apologize for my interruption. I was simply looking for Margaret and overheard you speaking of the Hammer’s as I was passing through.”

Her dark gaze drifted around those gathered and she flushed. “I will continue on my way then,” she muttered as she turned to go.

The blonde woman stopped her though, rising to catch hold of her hand with a soft laugh. “Wait! You don’t have to go! You seem to know more about Hammer and his team than we do! Mind sitting for a moment and tell us everything you know about Lord Hammer and his daughter? I’m Sergeant Morse, by the way and this is Sergeant Munroe.”

She was smiling, her face open and cheerful and Rumiko relaxed slightly as her blue eyes sparkled. She introduced herself to the newcomers, catching a bit about their rather unusual arrival; as the women chatted quietly with her she decided it would do no harm to help, however much she was able.

Besides, it would rather put the stone-faced Lieutenant off his guard if she did.

“Very well, for a moment only. I must find Peggy,” she murmured as she settled besides the women.

She bent over the map, tucking some of her hair behind her ears as she did so. “He’s here then?” she asked as she touched the tiny town marked with an X. They nodded and she frowned. “The Hammer’s are spoiled, that’s the first thing you must understand about them,” she began as the Lieutenant passed her a cup of the coffee they had brewed; she cradled it between her palms and inhaled deeply of its poignant scent. “They are not brilliant by any means; the only reason Hammer Industries still continues is because he inherited a fair amount of money with the death of his grandfather and she’s inherited the money of four separate husbands who have all died under mysterious circumstances. The company will never fall as long as the money continues so they have not had to fight for anything they possess. Unlike Tony.”

She sighed as her eyes rose to meet the curious and stunned gazes of her companions and she smiled as she sipped her steaming coffee. “Hammer will not last if he’s stranded in the desert. He really doesn’t know the first thing about survival.”

Logan chuckled, the tip of his cigar glowing as he smoked thoughtfully and he glanced at the silent Captain beside him. “What about it Rogers? Think we stand a chance if we get them down in the sand?”

Rogers hesitated and then turned his gaze back to Stark’s fiancé. “Madam Fujikawa,” he began, his voice quietly thoughtful. “What is your professional opinion, both as a businesswoman and as a colleague of these men, of Hammer’s chances of winning if we take out the Lady Beatrice?”

Her eyebrows rose as she gazed around the little circle of soldiers she sat with and she smiled. “Ah, I see. You’re taking matters into your own hands. My, Tony will not be pleased about that. He does so love a challenge.” She sighed as the Captain shifted uncomfortably and the Lieutenant snorted. Both women were watching her intently, consideration in their gazes.

“My professional opinion,” she said slowly as she stood and shook sand out of the folds of her gown. “My professional opinion, gentlemen and ladies, is that if you get Hammer level with Tony, this foolhardy adventure will suddenly become less trying. For all of us. I hope you do have a comprehensive plan as to what you’re going to do once you take out the airship. Because judging by the people he was with in Cairo, he will not go down without a fight.”

She smiled as they all stared at her and said as she turned away, “Good night then, good luck with your scheming.”

She was heading back towards the camp when someone cleared his throat behind her and she turned to see Captain Rogers standing just outside of his circle of companions, his arms folded across his chest.

“Thank you Madam,” he said with a small smile, before bowing in the customary way as her people, hands pressed together and raised to his chin. “That was some much needed information.”

She hesitated at the gesture, and then repeated it, her lips lifting in a small smile as well, “Of course Captain,” she said, her voice gentle as she straightened form her bow. “We are on the same team after all. I will talk with Tony and see if I can persuade him that this may be the best chance of our mission’s success. Good night Captain. Do call if you have any further questions about the Hammer’s.”

His eyebrows rose in surprise and she chuckled as she turned to leave; she did not miss the Lieutenant’s grumbled, “What do you know? The Ice-Queen’s got a heart after all.”

Someone slapped him and he yelped making Rumiko laugh.

Suddenly she wasn’t quite so frustrated now; for the first time since this idiotic adventure had begun she felt like she had done something helpful.

How she missed being helpful.

As she strode across the camp towards Anthony’s tent, a part of her wondering if Peggy had gone for a late-night visit with her cousin, she twisted her engagement ring about her finger.

If she was correct in her musings, Tony would not be keen on the idea of tinkering with Hammer’s ship. It would ring of cheating to him and while he was not always the most moralistic of men he would protest it, seeing it as an attack on his honor.

“Ah well,” she sighed, her smile growing as she made her way towards his tent. She was inexplicably cheered by the thought of this foolhardy journey ending so soon.

For surely it must end soon if Hammer was taken out of the picture.

So caught up in her thoughts of what she should say to Tony to make the man see reason, she did not notice right off that there was indeed someone of the female race in her fiancée’s tent; it just wasn’t quite as close as a relation as she’d have hoped.

“Tony!” she gasped as the tent flap closed behind her. “What on earth-what is she doing here?!”

Her black eyes sparked as her fiancée’s assistant stood hurriedly from where she had sat beside him on the edge of his bed with her hands resting on the gears spinning contentedly there and she barely heard Tony say, “She was simply fixing my gears, Ru,” before her hand was flying through the air to strike Pepper Potts firmly in the face.

As the woman crumpled with a faint cry Rumiko smiled coldly.

She was suddenly struck by the desire to find the blade she had hidden in her trunks; it would look quite stunning swinging towards this girl.

All things considered…

Rumiko Fujikawa had moved far past frustrated at this point.

Fury seemed to be the word of the night.

**

In hind sight, Pepper probably should not have been in Anthony Stark’s tent by herself so late at night.

It was terribly improper and most definitely not commendable of her.

But she was not entirely to blame and she was not entirely deserving of the resounding slap Rumiko served her upon discovering Pepper leaning over her fiancée’s bared chest with her fingers resting on his shiny mech.

“You whore!” the slender Japanese heiress shrieked as she reached down to grab the Potts woman by the collar. “What were you doing?!”

Pepper, her wind cut off by the tight grip on her throat, could do nothing but sputter. It was Stark who stopped Rumiko.

“Let Miss Potts go Ru,” he snapped as he caught his betrothed by the wrists and pried her fingers free of Pepper’s fine linen collar. “She was only doing what I asked, nothing more.”

“She was touching you!” Rumiko snarled as he pulled her away from the wheezing red head. Pepper was violently red, her blue eyes tearing in humiliation beneath her goggles and a few buttons on her shirt had popped free from the violence of the attack. Rumiko found she did not care.

“She was in your tent, at night and she was touching you, Tony!” She was furious, her dark eyes glittering furiously and Stark only just barely managed to catch her about the waist before she lunged towards Pepper for another onslaught.

“Enough,” he snarled as he forced her bodily to the canvas camp chair sitting before his camp desk. “ _Enough_. You’re acting the child Rumiko Fujikawa and it does not become you. Grow up or I shall have the Barton come haul you out like a reprobate.” His eyes were cold as he bent over her and gripped her chin tightly. Her nostrils flared as she glared at him and he smiled coldly. “There. That’s better.” Glancing at Pepper, who had paled at the cold fury in his voice, he jerked his head towards the entrance of his low slung tent and she nodded.

“Good night,” she whispered hoarsely as she eased past them and then made her escape, her long jacket flapping around her legs as she ran.

Stark waited for the tent flaps to settle with her exit and turned back to the woman he still held by the chin. He sighed at the stony expression on her face and bent forward to press a kiss to her lips. “You’re so silly sometimes, pet,” he whispered, his fingers almost caressing against her clenched jaw.

“I know what I saw and I am not silly,” she hissed as she struggled to pull away from him but he did not release her. “Let me go Stark!”

He chuckled then and ran his thumb over her cheek. “Oh-ho, so it’s ‘Stark’ now, is it? You won’t even let me explain?”

She snorted at his words and yanked free. “’Explain’” she snarled as she paced away from him. “I know you better than any Stark. You don’t need to ‘explain’ anything. I know what I saw.”

He sighed, his hand rising to rub his forehead. “Ru, you really must hear me out. It isn’t as bad as all that.” When she continued to ignore him, he finally caught hold of her hand and pulled her back towards him. “Rumiko,” he said gently as she struggled half-heartedly, “I slipped a gear. My bandages came loose while we rode today and some sand got into the deep gears. She dismantled me. Jarvis is put away for the duration of the trip, I can’t afford him breaking down now, and you were in bed, or so I thought. She was simply helping me as you did that day on the Helvetica.” He sighed when she continued to glare at him angrily and he raised her hands to his lips. “Ah love, I’m sorry but that was all it was.”

She hesitated as his lips brushed her knuckles and stretched out a finger to brush against the gears shining through his half buttoned shirt. “That was all it was Tony?” she asked quietly and he sighed.

“Yes, it was, I swear,” he said, his eyes closing in relief. _That was all it was_ , he said to himself as her touch grew more insistent. _All it was Stark. Just your assistant…nothing more._

She finally relaxed against him, the anger draining from her as quickly as it had appeared and he sighed. “That’s better now, isn’t it?

“Yes,” she whispered as her fingers rose from his brass to brush against the sharp bones of his collar. “Tony?”

“Mmm pet?” he murmured as his hands slid from her wrists to rest at her hips.

“Do you love me?”

He froze, pulling back a bit so he could meet her dark gaze and he frowned at what he saw there. Calculation. Knowledge.

“Rumiko,” he began slowly, but she stopped him. “I am sorry Tony…do not mind me. I am feeling maudlin tonight.”

“Ru,” he sighed, bending to kiss her insistently. “Stop, you took me by surprise, that is all. You know I love you.”

He could taste the lie on his lips but he forced his mind away from it.

She could hear the lie and that only made her sad.

“Shush Tony,” she said gently as she stroked his cheek. “I have to go now. I have to find Peggy. You should get some sleep.”

His hands fell away from her as she moved past him and he sighed. “I am sorry I cannot be better Rumiko,” he said when her hand settled on the tent flap.

“You are a good man Tony,” she said with a glance in his direction. “You are burdened and that makes it difficult for you. I understand.”

He took a step towards her but she shook her head. “No, it is best if I leave,” she said. “Goodnight.”

And then she was gone. Leaving Dr. Anthony Stark to his thoughts.

And his regrets.

“Dammit,” he snarled as he kicked his stool across the tent. “Dammit.”

None heard the pain or frustration in his voice.

**

Pepper stumbled across Peggy Carter, Carolyn Danvers, Peter Parker and Clint Barton that night quite by accident.

She had rushed from Stark’s tent in a daze, her cheek still stinging from the blow she had received and the shrieks her ears had burned with, and had headed blindly away from all of the camp fires and lanterns scattered around the camp.

She had wanted to be alone.

To catch her breath.

To think on what she had witnessed this night.

Her fingers still hummed with the memory of Dr. Anthony Stark’s gears beneath her touch and her mind spun as she remembered what it had been like to be trusted enough to put him back together.

It had been…stunning.

Simply that.

“Gods, Potts,” she muttered to herself as she pulled her goggles off and shoved them once more into her pockets. “Get your head out of the clouds. He’s an ass, simply that. Stop thinking about those damned gears and the way it felt to…erm.”

She coughed, weakly, into her hand and shook her head. She needed to stop thinking about it.

She needed…

A cold bath. That’s what she needed.

“Damn,” she growled, her boots sighing through the sand as she neared the little pool she’d bathed in earlier. “Blasted man and his blasted gears and his blasted mech. Ugh!”

She threw her hands over her head and wondered briefly if she could head back to Cairo now that SHIELD had sent back-up. Surely she could muster her own team in hopes of discovering what had truly happened to her parents?

Surely she wasn’t still need-

Her thoughts stuttered to a halt the moment a gob of something sticky, white and smelling of paste flew through the air to smack fully into her face and hair.

“ _Blast it all to hell_!” she shrieked as she staggered backwards and tried to dislodge the unusual material from her face. “What the devil is this?!”

The reeds were rustling, even as she struggled with the stringy, sticky material, really only succeeding in clumping her hair to her fingers no matter how much she struggled and she could just make out a few figures easing out of the reeds.

“Oh my! Miss Potts! We didn’t realize you were in this area!” Peggy Carter gasped as she steadied Pepper and unstuck her fingers from her hair. “Here, let me just-Peter! You certainly did a number on my cousin’s assistant!”

Pepper froze and strained to see the young brunette through the mass of goop clogging her eyes. “Peggy,” she growled. “What the devil are you doing up at this hour? Does your cousin know you’re out and about? Do you have an escort?”

A soft chuckle greeted her words and Stark’s Texan bodyguard drawled, “It’s all right Potts. She’s safe as houses what with all of SHIELD and the Norse prince’s camped out tonight.”

“Barton! You’re up as well?” she gasped. She could just make him out in the bright moonlight, his crossbow resting against his shoulder and his unusual hat pushed back on his brow. Peggy had succeeded in getting most of the unusual goo out of her eyes.

She could see the young Private Parker just behind Peggy, fiddling with something on his wrist; as she watched there was a faint pop and a disc clicked out of the unusual device he wore and another projectile of white goo flew through the air to land upon the pointed toes of Clint Barton’s boots.

“Watch it Parker,” he growled and the young soldier jumped. “Sorry,” he sputtered. “I really don’t know what’s wrong with it! Its tracking is all off and I can’t seem to aim-“

“It’s probably the sand. You probably got some in the gears.”

They all turned at the cool voice speaking from overhead and once more Pepper gasped. Carol Danvers was suspended above them, her figure lined in that unusual golden light and her eyes unreadable amidst the twisted black tattoos staining her cheeks.

Those golden eyes settled on Pepper, still a mess from Parker’s device and she actually smiled.

“Here,” she muttered as she finally landed before Pepper. “Peggy’s just making it worse.”

And she stretched out a slender finger, lit with that golden light, to rest just below Pepper’s eye.

“Hold still,” she muttered and Pepper’s eyes widened, as much as they were able, despite the stickiness of her eyelids. Carol Danvers smirked and then took a deep breath.

Pepper’s eyes flashed closed as warmth washed over her face but before she could truly panic the stickiness loosened and turned to liquid.

“There,” Carol said, her voice satisfied as she lowered her hand and shuttered her powers away. “That’s better.”

And Pepper had to agree.

“What was that?” she asked as she wiped a handkerchief over her cheeks and eyes, removing any remainder of the mess from her skin.

All eyes turned to the young Private, who blushed. “Uh, well, it’s,” he stuttered as the slender red head approached him, her long hair rippling in the moonlight. Her eyebrow rose as he fell silent but before he could react she snatched up one of his wrists and turned it so she could study the device strapped to his arm.

“Ah, I see,” she mused as she ran her fingers over the hydraulics, releasing the disc and then the composite mixed together in a little steel vial spread along his inner arm. “It’s rather like Lieutenant Logan’s gauntlets. Only this releases a paste compound. Very effective. Your invention?”

Her blue eyes were kind, despite her earlier irritation and his blush deepened. “Yes,” he said eagerly. “I based it off of spider’s webbing. It’s liquefied silk and rubberized paste. It’s pressurized in the canister and when I press the button here,” he folded his fingers over his palm to press against a tiny brass button set below his thumb, the canister hummed and the disc once more popped into place, ready to release its payload. “I can aim it anywhere I wish and it will shoot up to five meters!”

She nodded, impressed and smiled. “My, you all are quite the weapons vault aren’t you,” she muttered as she glanced from him to the Kree woman to Clint Barton.

Then she sighed. “Well, what are you up to at this hour? We’ll be leaving soon, I’m sure. You should be sleeping.”

They all shifted uncomfortably, even Barton and Carol Danvers, and her eyebrows rose even further. She folded her arms, unconsciously adopting a stern pose, similar to the one her aunt used when her uncle was staying up too late in his library.

“Speak up, you lot,” she snapped, her lips lifted in wry humor. “What is going on?”

Peggy glanced around the little circle and then cleared her throat. “We’ll tell you Pepper, but you have to swear you won’t tell Tony or Captain Rogers. Can you swear, please?!”

Pepper hesitated, frowning as she studied the young lady’s bright gaze and barely restrained bouncing. Then, glancing over her shoulder towards the camp and the object of her humiliation, she sighed.

“Very well,” she muttered. “What have you done this time?”

Before she could react, Peggy caught her hand and dragged her into the reeds. “You have to realize that now that SHIELD is here this adventure is going to get kind of messy,” she gasped as they wove through the bank towards the edge of camp. “There’s probably going to be some fighting and it’s probably going to be really messy. So we’re going to need to help Tony as much as possible.”

“Yeah,” Peter gasped from behind her. “We have to make sure we’re going to have an advantage.”

She frowned and glanced at Barton who strode beside her. His lips were pressed in a thin line and she could almost sense his discomfort. “What advantage?” she asked.

They did not answer her right off.

Instead they pushed through the last layer of reeds and Pepper skidded to a halt in the uncertain footing.

“Oh Gods,” she whispered as a massive figure turned in her direction and growled. “What the devil is that?!”

Hot breath washed over her face and green eyes glittered dangerously in the moonlight as the beast struggled in the quicksand it was stuck in. She skittered out of the way of massive hands that swiped in her direction and she staggered against Clint Barton’s chest.

He was staring at the figure with something like sorrow in his gaze.

“That, Miss Potts,” he muttered as the beast roared and growled uselessly before them. “Is our greatest advantage.”

“But it’s-“ she sputtered as he pulled her and Peggy back a bit further, his hands tight around their waists. The beast had almost succeeded in pulling itself free as they watched and Peggy’s skirt had almost gotten tangled in his fingers. Carol Danvers and Private Peter Parker waited at its flanks, ropes in hand and weapons ready should the beast get free.

“Yes,” Barton sighed sadly as he slid a bolt home in his crossbow; Pepper’s eyes widened at the sight of the glass vial set behind the head and she resisted asking what he was thinking of doing. He glanced at her, his pale eyes sparking dangerously in the moonlight. “It is.”

The beast turned his massive head in the archer’s direction and bared white squarish teeth as the crossbow aimed at his head.

The crossbow released with a sharp twang of springs and the beast let out a mighty, “NO!” before it collapsed against the bank, a thin bolt buried in the flesh of his neck.

“Bruce Banner,” Pepper breathed as the acrid tang of alchemy washed over her nose and she sagged to her knees, all of her strength gone at the sight of who lay before her, very much returned to his normal form. “Oh Gods…”

It would seem their advantage against the Hammer’s…

Was a mild doctor with a bit of a temper problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. 
> 
> It's been a frantic semester. 
> 
> Hope everyone is still keeping up with the story. Please let me know how it's going. I haven't gotten any feedback and I'd LOVE to hear from you all! 
> 
> Anywho! Thanks again! 
> 
> Love to all.
> 
> -M


	15. Dawn Musings

“Virginia.”

At the sound of her name issuing from Captain Rogers’ lips, her shoulders stiffened and she ducked her head even further into the side of her camel; she’d been so caught in her thoughts, so focused on what she had witnessed this morning, what she had just managed to get into his bed with the help of a Texan archer, that she hadn’t heard the Captain arrive at her side.

She hadn’t even had a chance to change out of her muddy clothes or adjust her burnoose to hide the marks marring her skin.

What would the others think if they could see her now?”

“Virginia Potts, look at me,” his voice snapped and she sighed.

“Yes Captain?” she muttered, praying that he would just leave, go off and busy himself with his own camel and leave her alone.

But he didn’t.

“You were in Stark’s tent this morning,” he snapped and she could almost imagine the furious spark in his blue eyes.

“Yes? What of it?” she asked as she tightened the girth around her camel’s middle and made sure the saddle bags were clasped closed. She continued avoiding his gaze, her face averted and her shoulders turned against his irritation.

She didn’t see the angry set of his jaw or the jealous glint in his eyes. “He’s engaged Virginia! And you’re unmarried! You know what that looks like! I’ve been charged with your safety, both by Fury and your guardian’s! What were you thinking, being with him on your own for so long?” he growled as he took another step towards her, the leather of his knee-high boots creaking ominously in the pre-dawn silence.

Pepper hesitated at that, her thoughts scattering to the wind as she remembered Rumiko’s attack and Stark’s bared chest under her fingers.

Conflicted did not even begin to describe what she was feeling this morning. “It’s none of your concern Steve,” she whispered. “I’m fine, nothing happened. I was simply helping him with the route and trying to convince him SHIELD’s meddling is required for our success.”

Her eyes fluttered closed at the uncontrolled blurting of her words and she prayed to all of the gods that he would believe her excuse.

Apparently he didn’t.

His hand settled on her shoulder, gripping tightly through the layers of leather, embroidery and cotton she wore and she jumped.

“Virginia, look at me please,” he said, his voice not so much a growl now as concerned. He’d heard the hysteria in her tone then.

She did not turn around.

“Please don’t,” she said, her voice resigned. This was not something she wished to experience so early in the day. She really should have adjusted her burnoose accordingly.

But how was she to know the others would be up so early? How was she to know there would be someone just as sleepless as herself?

He turned her gently towards himself and the sound of his gasp was enough for her cheeks to flame and her insides shrivel with shame.

“I’m going to kill him,” he snarled, his blue eyes furious and she knew that the mild Captain truly meant what he said.

“No,” she snapped, suddenly just as furious, her own eyes blazing as she stiffened under his touch. “You won’t.” She tried to shrug him off but he only took another step towards her, pinning her to her stoic camel.

He snorted and she winced as his fingers flexed on the delicate bones of her shoulders, pinching despite the layers she wore. “Oh? And why is that?”

His eyes never left the bruise on her cheek or the red marks on her throat.

The marks she had earned for her familiarity.

“Because I earned them,” she said, her voice soft and her eyes blank. “I was…touching…Dr. Stark when Rumiko found us this morning. It was my fault Steve.”

It wasn’t until his hand fell from her shoulder and he backed a few steps from her, murder in his gaze, that she knew she’d said the wrong thing.

But of course, by the time she realized that, Rogers was already heading for Stark’s tent, shield in hand.

And she knew she’d doomed them all.

“Captain, stop!” she shouted as she began to rush after him, her exhausted body straining with new-found energy born of desperation. “Steve, please!”

He didn’t stop.

  
**

When the horn went off, ordering them to begin striking camp and gather at the camel line, Stark groaned and passed his hand wearily over his eyes, before rolling out of his cot.

He rolled his shoulders carefully, absently noting the tug and pull of the apparatus in his chest, and he yawned.

“Hell,” he muttered, his fingers scratching idly at his mustache and sideburns. “What an awful night.”

Memories of what had occurred in the wee hours of the morning struck him once more and he cringed as he fiddled with the bandages he had managed to wrap tightly around his chest before collapsing into his cot.

They were snug against his musculature, thankfully and he knew they would keep him free of sand for at least the duration of today’s ride.

He really should come up with a something to shield the clockwork. Vanity was one thing but this…

This was bordering on pure stupidity.

Sighing, he rose and stretched, smiling happily as the joints and tendons in his back pulled and loosened. Riding such ungainly beasts as these camels was certainly putting a crick in his vertebrae.

He couldn’t wait to return home to his masseuse and-

His thoughts froze as he paused halfway across his tent and his eyes locked on a glittering golden object resting in the shadows under his desk.

It was a watch.

Better yet…

It was Virginia “Pepper” Potts’ watch.

“Well, well,” he muttered as he knelt to retrieve his assistant’s precious device. “However did she manage to forget you?”

His fingers ran over the engraved surface of Craticus Potts’ watch and his mind drifted once more to the wee hours of the morning.

To the way it had felt with Pepper’s fingers against his gears.

She’d been so tender while putting him back together. The base curiosity he’d seen in her eyes as she studied the hundreds pieces of clockwork ticking away beneath the pads of her fingers had been…

Well…stunning, if he was being honest with himself.

Absolutely stunning.

He jumped slightly as the cover of the watch clicked open and he frowned, his fingers idly brushing the cut crystal of its face and a truly unwarranted thought struck him.

What if he fixed the watch for her as an offer?

An offer…

For a permanent partnership?

The blood ran from his cheeks and he swayed dangerously on the balls of his feet. “Oh gods,” he groaned, his hands rising to cradle his head. “Stop that…”

He could not…could not stop thinking of her leaning over him though, the sweet musk of her washing over his nose as she concentrated on his repairs.

He could not…

“Stark.”

His name, spoken in such a cold, flat voice was what broke him of his daydream and he jumped to his feet, his hand tucking the watch in his pockets as he did so.

Right before the good Captain’s fist connected with his jaw.

“You bastard,” Rogers snarled, his foot settling painfully on Stark’s chest as the man sprawled bonelessly against the rough canvas floor of his well-appointed tent. “I’ll kill you for this!”

“K-kill me?” Stark repeated, his voice nothing but a croak and he turned his head enough to spit a small pool of blood and a broken tooth from his mouth. “Jesus Rogers, what’s got your garters in a knot?!”

Steve Rogers stared at him for a moment, his eyes blue eyes wild under the brim of his hat and he bared his teeth in a feral grin.

“You don’t even know what you did to her, do you?” he hissed and his fingers were busying themselves with the leather straps at his shoulders.

The straps that held his shield.

Stark’s eyes widened and he began to struggle against the boot bearing painfully down on the gears of his chest and he sputtered, “Who?! What did I do to who?! Come on Rogers, ease up! You’re creating too much pressure!”

His head fell back as he groaned and he swore he could feel the bracings in his chest bend beneath the Captain’s foot.

Bend just enough to warp the gears.

God, no. Not that! He thought desperately as first one gear and then another popped out of sync and he knew…

Knew that this was it…

His heart really was going to stop this time.

And Rogers was still bellowing. And the shield…the shield was free now.

Maybe he wouldn’t even have to wait for his heart to give out. Maybe Rogers would just take his head off.

That’d be less painful…

“Do it,” he spat, blood on his lips and his chest heaving. “Go on you idiot-finish it!”

And gods help them all…

The Captain obliged him.

**

“Clint! Clint! Please, please wake up!”

Barton grumbled and turned over in his cot, his hands flapping towards the voice calling his name. “G’way, not time yet,” he muttered into his pillow, his eyes closed tightly.

Whoever was calling for him ignored that and he gasped as his assailant jerked his blanket off and smacked his bare shoulder.

“Stark’s in trouble Clint! You have to hurry!”

That got him up. No matter how tired he was.

“What’s happened?” he growled as he grabbed his hat and his crossbow. “Pepper, what’s happened?”

Pepper Potts’ eyes were wide, wild and her hair tumbled around her shoulders; he could see the combs she used to control the waves, twisted in the deep red tresses and for some bizarre reason that set him more on edge than the dark bruises on her cheek and neck.

Pepper Potts never looked this disorderly.

Not even when they’d ridden so hard three days ago, desperate to reach this little watering hole.

“It’s Steve,” she sobbed, her hands tight around his arm; she was tugging him insistently towards the surface of his tent. “He’s gone after Dr. Stark! Please, you have to stop him!”

“’Gone after’ Tony?” he snapped as she pushed him from the tent. “What do you mean Potts? Why? Did the good Captain finally get sick of Stark’s barbs?”

He had to chuckle at the thought; he and Logan had a bet going, to see how long Rogers would last on the journey before going after Tony. Looked like Logan owed him…

“No,” she groaned as the rushed through the early dawn light towards the Stark family tents. “No, it’s nothing so trivial!”

That’s when Barton heard the bellowing.

And saw the terrifying silhouette of Steve Rogers standing over a sprawled figure, shield upraised.

“Oh hell,” Barton snarled, his crossbow already positioned at his shoulder. “It is too damn early for this!”

His eye closed as he aimed at the Captain and Pepper’s eyes widened.

“Please! Don’t harm the Captain! It’s-it’s not his fault!” she whispered but he ignored her and took a small step to the left to better aim at his target.

“Don’t worry Pep, I won’t hurt him,” he muttered and there was a soft ‘twang’ as the bolt burst free of his bow. “Much,” he finished as the short bolt flew from the weapon, tore through the canvas of Stark’s tent and assumedly smacked into the hand bearing the shield.

Yes, Logan definitely owed him. And Barnes as well.

“Ha! And the good Yank doesn’t swear,” he muttered with a wry grin. He glanced at Pepper who stood at his side, shoulders slumped and hands tangled in her waistcoat and sighed. “So, mind explaining what’s going on Miss Potts?” he asked, the back of his knuckles rising to brush against the vicious bruise on her cheek.

She flinched away but before she could explain, a soft voice said from behind them, “I believe I can explain Mr. Barton.”

Both stiffened and turned slowly to see a regal looking Rumiko standing beside a slightly rumpled Dr. Banner and still yawning Peggy Carter.

A single Katana blade poked over her shoulder blade and she was dressed in a curious mix of Eastern and Western dress.

She looked positively war-like.

And Pepper, exhausted and emotionally strained, had had quite enough.

Clint Barton sighed the moment she crumpled at his feet in a dead faint.

“Right, don’t think we’re moving anywhere today,” he grumbled, his hand passing wearily over his forehead, pushing his hat up over his blonde hair as he did. “Better let SHIELD know.”

Dr. Banner frowned and bent to check her pulse. “She’s fainted,” he muttered and he pushed his darkened glasses up his nose. “Let’s get her to Tony’s tent, it’s closest and judging by the bellowing occurring there I’d say they’re going to need medical attention as well. Then,” he glanced in Rumiko’s direction and his frown deepened as the Japanese heiress met his gaze with nothing but her usual cool stoicism. “Then maybe we can get some clarification on what has happened here.”

Before any of those assembled could demure, he gathered Pepper Potts in his arms and began making his way towards Anthony Stark’s tent.

After a brief moment the other’s followed, Rumiko’s elbow firmly grasped in Barton’s hand and a still yawning Peggy close on their heels.

“One day,” the archer muttered, “one day I’m going to be able to take a real holiday.”

None missed the genuine frustration in his voice.

And none mentioned it.

**

Carol Danvers landed delicately beside Bobbi Morse and yawned. “God, I’m bushed. Think I’ll have time to catch a nap today before we leave this mosquito trap?”

Bobbi glanced up from her tin coffee mug and chuckled. “Oh, I expect so. Looks like we’re going to be here another day.”

Carol settled beside the other blonde. “Oh yeah? What’s happened?” she asked as the other agent handed her a mug of steaming coffee.

Bobbi glanced over her shoulder towards the Stark quarters and shrugged. “Some of the group had a bit of a domestic last night, I think. All I know is Steve’s getting patched up in Banner’s tent and Miss Potts is in her tent with a fever and Tony Stark is ill as well; Madam Fujikawa is taking care of him.” She sighed and ran her hand over her face. “Guess it doesn’t really matter. We’re moving out in a half-hour to play with Ororo’s mech. “

The other woman’s eyebrows had risen during Bobbi’s explanation and she chuckled wryly. “Well, they don’t do things halfway here, do they,” she muttered as she leaned back on her elbows, her mug set aside for now. She glanced at her companion and frowned, “Who’s ‘we’ Bobbi?”

“You’re staying here Danvers,” growled a voice from behind them and both women jumped; Bobbi let out a tiny shriek and Carol swore as her coffee spilled with the violence of her reaction.

“Dammit Logan,” both women snapped as their Lieutenant lit his cigar and studied them silently. “Ever heard of not sneaking around Lieutenant?” Bobbi growled as she stood and helped Carol up as well.

“Wasn’t sneaking. You two were gossiping,” he growled back and both women rolled their eyes. He shook his shaggy head and moved towards the fire and coffee pot, grumbling as he went, “Get ready to leave Morse. You, me and Ororo are scouting ahead. Danvers, you’re staying here with Parker, Barnes and Rogers. Try to keep the peace. The Norse are staying as well.”

Both women hesitated and Carol asked, “Are the Prince’s part of our group now as well, sir?”

He glanced at her over his shoulder and shrugged.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” he muttered. “The blonde brute and Stark have history. Besides, I’d feel better with them here where I can keep an eye on ‘em.”

Bobbi snorted and fiddled with her staff, strapped to her side in a clever holster. “You don’t like the youngest prince either, do you Lieutenant?” she asked slyly.

He didn’t answer right away; they watched as he drank two cups of coffee in quick succession and took a couple draws on the cigar.

Finally, after a moment, he answered, his voice a dangerous growl, “Let’s put it this way girls, Loki Odinson isn’t the most dangerous person in this camp but he’s certainly the least trustworthy.”

And then he was prowling away.

Before he got too far away though he snapped, “Half an hour Morse! Be on your camel, ready to go.”

Both women watched him leave and then they sighed.

“Well,” Bobbi said as she grabbed her dark cloak off the ground and threw it over her shoulders and drew up the deep hood. “Looks like Logan’s taking things into his own hands.”

Carol nodded and smiled fiercely.

“Good,” she said, her hands flexing in their black gloves. “About time somebody took initiative in this group.”

Bobbi hesitated before heading towards hers and Ororo’s camels and muttered, “What do you think’s going to happen the moment we take out Hammer’s dirigible?”

Carol’s eyes were more golden than blue as she glanced at her friend and her facial tattoos twisted with the power she barely contained.

“Chaos, Bobbi. Pure and unadulterated chaos.”

Neither woman could possibly know how true those words would become by the end of the day.

But then…

Nothing about this entire adventure had exactly been calm, had it?

Why would SHIELD’s little games be any different?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys! 
> 
> This story has been going great guns lately!
> 
> I'm sorry for the lack of updates. Senior year of college has become slightly more stressful than previously imagined! 
> 
> Thanks for the interest and the kudos! It means so much. 
> 
> So with this update, I feel like I should warn you that there are going to be 5 more chapters, 10 at the most. I really can't believe I'm getting so close to the end! 
> 
> So I hope you enjoy this and any feedback would be great. 
> 
> Don't worry if there seems to be a few loose ends. I promise you, everything will work out in the end. 
> 
> -M


	16. The Storm Comes

“Logan, where exactly are we going?”

Bobbi’s voice was mild and the only sign of the acute exhaustion she was feeling was her slumped position in her saddle. Her dark cloak, made of an unusual reflective fabric that seemed to discourage the impossible Egyptian sunlight from settling on her person, streamed behind her and her blond hair tumbled from the deep hood’s interior.

The Lieutenant could still see her pale cheeks and hooded eyes though.

They’d been riding hard for nearly six hours; the ground they’d covered was worth it though, and judging by the telegram Sergeant Morse had received…

“We’re almost there Morse,” he growled as he flicked his crop once more across his camel’s hairy hide. “Just over that ridge and we’ll be close enough then.”

“Close enough for what, sir?” Ororo asked.

He only shot her a dangerous glance and smoked his cigar.

“Oh, well, I guess that’s sort of obvious,” she muttered under her breath before shooting an annoyed glance in Bobbi’s direction.

The blonde smiled and shrugged. “Are you sure this is going to be okay with Stark?” she asked their Lieutenant.

He grunted and shrugged. “Doesn’t matter what he wants. We’re a week from Saqqara by road. Hammer was doing better than we expected. It’s time for us to finish this. So that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Only a week?” both women blurted, stunned and he smirked into his sideburns.

“Yeah, Potts was keeping that mum form Dr. Stark. Don’t even know if Rogers knows. Which is why I’m the guide and she’s the assistant.” He flicked his cigar into the sand and kicked his camel up the sloped ridge they’d been heading for all morning.

“Right,” he muttered as the women drew level on either side of him and they faced into the wide expanse of desert they faced. “Time to play a game.”

Ororo’s eyes were wide and Bobbi actually gasped as they took in the mighty airship hovering in the distance. It seemed to be docked for they could just make out the ropes tying it off to the heavy stone piles butting out of the wide Nile stretching to their left.

“Oh God,” Ororo whispered, her hands suddenly sweaty on the leather reins she held. “I don’t know if I can do this Logan”

“Well you’re not yet,” he muttered as he clicked his teeth to his camel. The great beast sighed and folded in on itself, lowering to the ground so the Lieutenant could climb off. Seeing the women’s curious glances he shrugged. “They’re not flying, as you can see. So we have to wait till they leave Sumayat. Which means someone’s going to have to go in and find out _when_ they’re leaving. And maybe put some fire to their rears, just to get the game a-moving.” He glanced from one to the other and stuck a cigar between his lips. “Any takers?”

Bobbi smirked and raised her hand. “I’ll do it grumps. I need a beer anyway.”

He studied her carefully and nodded. “Right,” he muttered. “Don’t do anything too drastic Morse. Get in, scope them out, drink a couple beers, spread a few rumors and then get out. That’s all.”

She smirked and flicked her cloak. “Yeah, yeah. I know how to be a spy Logan. Been doing this a while now.”

He shrugged and lit his cigar. “Just keeping it clear,” he muttered through the smoke suddenly issuing from his lips. “Well? Get out of here. The sun’s going to set in a few hours. I don’t fancy a camp-out on this dune.”

His hand smacked her camel’s rear and the brute snorted before galloping off, his rider bouncing like a sack of potatoes on his back.

Ororo sighed and stroked her camel’s neck. “So what now Logan? Do we just sit and wait?” she asked as she slid to the ground and stretched.

He nodded. “Yup. Might as well nap as well. Tonight’s going to be a long one.” He glanced at her and then nodded towards her saddle bags. “Better send a telegram to Rogers’ telling him our location and the plan for tonight.”

She reached for her bags and then froze. “And what exactly is the plan Logan?” she asked. “I’m using the weather machine, I know that. But beyond that…”

He smiled fiercely and leaned back against his camel’s side.

“Just a little wind Ororo,” he said as he patted the sand at his side; she hesitated for moment and then sat beside him. He smirked and smoked his cigar for a moment. “Just a little wind to bring the bad guy’s balloon down. That’s all”

She smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. “Okay Logan. I can do that,” she said as her eyelids began to close. “Just a little wind.”

**

Wade Wilson was driving Lord Justin Hammer’s team to distraction.

It wasn’t necessarily that he meant to of course. It was just that the mercenary’s personality alone was simply far too grating for any of the Brit’s to handle.

The man would not shut up about that odd delicacy he called a ‘chimichanga.’ He would tell any he came across on the _Lady Beatrice_ about the food until he was blue in the face and his stomach actually started to rumble with hunger.

And then, blessedly, he would vanish to the kitchens to regale the Cooks about said rather horrid sounding food until even they became annoyed and he would be forcibly removed.

Katana’s notwithstanding, Deadpool would not argue against Hammer’s Cooks.

Besides…they were clockwork. Blades and clockwork just didn’t mix well.

Not for lack of trying of course. He’d rather enjoyed chasing the busty brass Cook’s maid around the kitchen the first day, asking if she was as solid as she looked and if she’d rather like to “try him on for size.”

He’d broken three plates, put his foot through a pudding and gotten the hilt of his left katana tangled in the pot rack over the chopping block before the Butler had been wound and rolled to the poor Maid’s rescue.

She’d been nothing but shaking gears for the rest of the day and the Head Cook had had to switch her off for at least an hour.

That little adventure had postponed dinner for almost thirty minutes and when his food finally arrived in the dining room he’d found it cold and covered in something that rather resembled oil.

He’d still eaten it though. “It’ll put hair on my chest!” he’d declared, much to his companion’s horror. “I’m a man!”

Lord Hammer had removed himself and his daughter immediately, and forbade the young woman from going near the psychopath for the rest of the journey; Justine Hammer, heiress and slightly spoiled brat of the Hammer legacy, had agreed and hence made sure she always had her “spider’s bite” upon her rather chubby finger.

Just in case Wilson decided to get a little too familiar.

Or a bit too psychotic.

Now though, nearly two weeks into their journey, Wade Wilson was beginning to suspect something was not right with the world.

For one thing…the cooks had learned how to make chimichangas; they were pretty good too, even if they were heartless British lugs of metal.

For another he’d begun to notice the veiled assassin Hammer called the Widow, sneaking off to do super secret assassin-y things.

Things, he as a mercenary, was beginning to suspect involved information divulging.

Now, he couldn’t be sure, but if there was one thing he knew, it was mysterious women who wore black veils and wore super powered electron-charged bracelets on their wrists were slightly up there with clowns when it came to who you should trust with the location of a powerful treasure.

And Hammer certainly seemed to trust the Widow.

“Whatcha doing my little Russian glass of poisoned vodka,” he muttered to himself in a sing-song voice one night; he was following the veiled Widow through the bowels of the airship. He’d noticed her slipping off once more after dinner to do her secret assassin-y things and once he’d been excused by the butler he’d decided now was the time to play noble merc.

Besides, if she was playing games…

Well, he may just up the ante.

Up ahead, nearly twenty paces off really, the Widow stopped at one of the heavy lead-lined doors of the boiler room and Wade swore under his breath before ducking behind a steam pipe as she glanced over her shoulder.

That’s when he heard her talking.

And the faint beep of a telegraph ticking and clicking away in the shadows.

 _Ja sam bio saznao. To je vrijeme da poduzme akciju_ , she muttered in a foreign language he suspected was not Spanish. It sort of sounded like how he sounded after drinking White Russian’s with his best-bud Cable.

“Oooh, bet that’s Russian or something!” he said with a cheerful smile and winced as his Katana’s smacked him in the back of the head; it was really pretty tight in this corner. He should have just hidden behind that strut over there…

Wade frowned and poked his head around the pipe before rummaging in the pockets of his red and black checked waistcoat for his binoculars.

“Whatever are you doing my black little spider-rose?” he whispered as he raised the tiny glasses to his eyes and zoomed the lenses on his prey. “Mmm, always did love how a Russian looked in black,” he muttered to himself as he drifted the lenses over her rounded derriere and up to her hands.

His eyebrows rose and he chuckled under his breath at the sight of her holding a peculiar little device about the size of her palm, her gloved thumb tip-tapping on the lever attached to the heavy spring.

A mobile telegraph then. He’d seen a few of those.

Usually on SHIELD agents.

“Well, well,” he muttered as he rose and slipped his binoculars back into his deep pocket. “Somebody’s playing chess tonight.”

His hand rose to loosen first one blade and then the other in their sheaths and he straightened his bowtie absently before saying, “Look, I love a little role-play in the bedchamber Miss Widow but spies and assassins just ain’t a game you should be playing right now.”

She didn’t move. And she didn’t stop her tapping.

“Leave Wilson,” she snapped, her faintly accented voice cold. “You have no idea what you are getting yourself into.”

He smiled and the sound of his Katana’s sliding free of their scabbards was loud in the still silence.

She’d stopped her tapping.

And she still hadn’t turned to face him.

“This is not a game Wilson,” she said. “And you are going to find that out the hard way.”

Just as he started to swing his very shiny swords in her direction, there was a huge flash of lightning.

And the indomitable airship _Lady Beatrice_ shivered with an ominous groan.

He was distracted by the ship shuddering beneath his feet and he did not have a chance to react before the Black Widow’s suddenly electronized wrists were flying into his revealed throat.

“Agh! The spider strikes!” he screamed as her foot connected in his stomach, causing him to fly halfway down the dark hallway they’d crept down just moments before.

The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was her shedding her veils and robes to stand over him in leather breeches and a flared red riding jacket. She knelt at his side and searched him over; he couldn’t stop her. Her Widow’s Sting had struck him dumb but he could watch as she looted his paralyzed body.

“You should get out while you can Wade,” she said gently as she slipped his favorite dark glasses on over her eyes and slid his favorite pistol in the waistband of her breeches. She patted his chest and smiled before glancing over her shoulder. His eyes snapped to the windows she looked through and he would have frowned or laughed or sang a little ditty.

If he hadn’t been paralyzed.

Lightning danced across the darkened Egyptian skies and he could just make out the crystalline clink as millions and billions of tiny little grains of sand struck the glass windows of the airship.

“There’s a storm coming Mr. Wilson,” she said as she stood, tall and proud, her dark red hair tumbled artfully over her shoulders. “I won’t tell you it’s time to choose sides. Because you of all people know how the game goes if you choose the wrong side.”

And then she bent and pulled a peculiar strapped pack from the shadows of the pipes she’d stood before; he watched as she swung it over her shoulders to rest at her back and she winked at him before aiming his favorite pistol at the windows.

“See you soon Deadpool,” she shouted as the glass blew out over him and she scrambled onto the windowsill. “Try not to get sand in your eye!”

And then she jumped.

 _Wow, what a girl_ , he thought as his eyes drifted closed. _The kind of girl I could bring home to mom. I wonder if she likes Mexican food?_

**

“Ororo, this is not a little wind!” Bobbi could be heard screaming from her camel’s saddle five hours after she went into the village to scout out Hammer’s team. “This is a hurricane!”

In retrospect, Logan realized they probably should have let the Sergeant practice summoning a wind storm first before setting her loose on Hammer.

Although, he had to admit, watching the winds whipping up from the dunes, heavy with sand and lightning, to begin sweeping over the taut canvas of the floundering airship above them…

Well, it certainly did the trick.

“Good job Storm,” he said to the tranced out woman at his side. “That was exactly what was needed.”

She turned white eyes to him as the airship began to fall and smiled.

“ _Anything for you Logan_ ,” she whispered into the shrieking winds whipping around them.

He was the only one who heard.

And he actually smiled.

Which might have been more terrifying than the ship pitching with a screech of metal and a roar of fire into the dunes before them.

“Get out of here Bobbi!” he shouted to the blonde woman waiting for his signal. She was wrapped and shrouded, goggles over her eyes but somehow she heard him.

And within seconds she was gone.

Gone back to Stark and his camp.

While behind her was nothing but lightning and fire and chaos.

She would never forget Ororo’s white eyes turned to the moon above them or Logan’s hand on her shoulder.

There were something’s that would always be engrained upon one’s memory.

After all…

The three of them had brought down an un-sinkable ship tonight.

Her teeth flashed in a feral grin and she began to laugh as her body pitched with her camel’s movements.

She couldn’t help wondering how Hammer’s team would handle being faced with the dual enemies of the elements and Stark’s team of soldiers, prince’s and scientist’s.

She didn’t fancy his chances.

She hoped their contact had gotten free of the ship before she fell.

**

Wade slept through the mighty airship _Lady Beatrice’s_ horrific death.

Not that he missed much.

Besides, by the time he woke up, sides had been chosen already.

He’d always been the last one chosen growing up.

Good to know that tradition was continuing.

“Hey Hammer!” he shouted as he emerged from the wreckage to see his lord and master leaning on a cane beside his plumpish daughter, who was screeching about sun and freckles and sore ankles. “What’s up?” he asked as he sidled up to the stranded Lords and Ladies.

“Stark’s coming,” Hammer snarled, his watery-gray eyes furious. “He’s coming for us and he wrecked my airship.”

“Oh goody,” Wade said as he righted his shredded suit jacket and straightened his singed bowtie. “And how do you know they’re coming for us?”

Hammer pointed towards a rather unimposing dune and Wade’s eyebrows rose under the brim of the bowler hat he’d found while climbing out of the smoking bowels of the ship.

“Ah,” he hummed, his hand rising once more to loosen his Katanas, his eyes locked on a familiar, shaggy haired figure standing atop the dune. As he watched, six claws emerged from the figure’s gauntleted knuckles. “Right. Let’s get this party started.”

**

Natasha Romanov’s eyes flashed in the early Egyptian sunlight and she could not help chuckling at the sight of the scrambling Lord and his piggy daughter scrambling beneath her in the valley the ship had crashed in.

“So…whose side shall I play hmm?” she asked as she raised her wrists before her eyes and fiddled with the bracelets there.

Briefly her fingers brushed over the engraving there and her smile turned gentle.

With all of my love, the man who’d given her her favorite weapons had written. My little spider. From your Tessy.

“I suppose that is a stupid question,” she muttered and rose before making her way towards the hairy Lieutenant she could see just mounting the top of the dune across from hers.

Let the games begin, she thought.


	17. The Licking of Wounds

The Asgardians found Pepper first. 

She told herself she wasn’t running away when she took her camel and slipped free of the warding, but she had never lied to herself before. 

And this certainly felt like running away. 

“Miss Potts?” 

Pepper turned at the sound of a woman’s accented voice behind her and blushed when the ladies Sif and Sigyn swung free of their camels before making their way in her direction. 

She was sitting in a shaded outcropping by the river, a few miles away from their camp; she really hadn’t expected anyone to find her so soon. 

“My ladies?” she said as she rose and bobbed into a curtsy.  “How may I be of assistance?”

Both women, one with hair as dark as a moonless Egyptian night, the other as bright as the sun beating down on their heads, waved her curtsy and words away. 

“We thought we might find you here, madam,” Sif said as she sprawled elegantly beside the river, her unusual greatcoat spread around her and her black hair spilling over her shoulders.  “Sergeant Barnes is quite beside himself you know.” 

Her grey eyes were indecipherable in the bright morning sun and Pepper felt herself blush once more.  She absently tugged the fringes of her burnoose tighter as she sat beside the older woman and cleared her throat.  “I did not mean to worry him…” she muttered to her fingers. 

Sigyn giggled and nudged her gently from where she sat.  “Your soldiers are certainly most devoted to you Miss!” she exclaimed cheerfully as she tilted her head to the sun overhanging their quiet corner of the Nile.  “I’ve never seen such devotion.” 

Sif snorted and fiddled with the metal brackets on her coat.  Pepper could not but help studying the coat as her companion adjusted its lay and she almost missed the woman saying, “These Western men are idiots.  And the Oriental woman is far too conniving for my taste.  Perhaps she is meant for Loki.”

Pepper gasped as Sigyn stretched out a hand and smacked the dark haired woman on the shoulder; she kept her face to the sun, her eyes closed, though so Pepper suspected this was a common occurrence for the women.

Loki, it seemed, was not the most popular with his brother’s cousin or even his own betrothed. 

Sif’s lips were curled in a small smile and her grey eyes had returned to Pepper’s face.  “In my country you would be owed blood justice,” she murmured suddenly, her fingers stretching out to stroke the edge of the bruise just showing on Pepper’s cheek.  “Odin Allfather would grant you the chance to react in kind against the one who wounded you so wrongly madam.” 

Pepper flinched from her touch and her words and turned her eyes back to the glittering river, her fingers absently tugging the scarf tighter around her face. 

“I shouldn’t have retribution though,” she murmured.  “I was quite in the wrong, madams.  I was in an engaged man’s tent at night and well, what happened was my f-“

“Spare us,” Sif snapped, her grey eyes blazing with irritation and she stood.  “The Japanese heiress told us what happened while Thor wrestled that American Captain from Anthony’s tent.”  She leveled her cold gaze on the younger woman and her lips twitched into a smile.  “You did nothing wrong Miss Potts,” she continued, her voice much gentler and Sigyn chuckled as she rose as well.  “You are Dr. Stark’s assistant and as such had as much right, if not more than his very betrothed, to being in his tent.”

“But,” Pepper sputtered as the Norse women crowded her and began hauling her upright.  “But I was touching him!”

“You were replacing a gear in his mech, my dear!” Sigyn said brightly as they looped their arms through Pepper’s and began leading her towards the sleeping camels.  “Rumiko Fujikawa has made no secret of how much she loathes placing her dainty fingers in Tony’s clockwork and his young cousin has some sort of vow that keeps her from disrupting the Almighty’s designs if they are corrupted by the clockwork that may run them.”  She shrugged.  “If you must know, the only person he has ever _truly_ trusted to fix his heart was Dr. Banner.  The fact that he’s let you get so familiar with his gears is quite the honor!”

Sigyn’s beautiful sky-blue eyes sparkled as she gazed at Pepper and her full pink lips curled in a lovely smile that revealed her dimples.  The other woman sighed and rubbed her temple before saying, “How are the men?  Dr. Stark and the Captain and…” she swallowed nervously, her mind once more going back to the swamp she’d stumbled through last night with Barton and the youngsters.  “And Dr. Banner?” she finished weakly.

Neither of the Norse women noticed her hesitation.

Or her pale cheeks. 

They were far more intent on waking their camels and commencing the return trip back to camp.

Hopefully before Thor or Loki noticed their absence.

“Oh they men are all licking their wounds as of now,” Sigyn said brightly as she scratched her camel’s forelock, much to the ungainly beast’s enjoyment.  She winked at Pepper and shrugged.  “The Captain had to be wrestled into SHIELD’s care of course.  I would say it’s a safe bet that man has a bit of the berserker in him.”

Her eyes flickered in Sif’s direction but the dark haired woman ignored her companion and said instead, “Thor was with Tony the last I saw, when we noticed you were not in your tent like Dr. Banner believed.”

Pepper shifted in her saddle, her cheeks warming, as the woman’s cool grey eyes settled on her accusingly but she did not have the chance to defend herself.

Sif continued as her camel rose slowly, “Thor is setting up the forge today, in hopes of aiding Tony.”

“’Forge’?!” Pepper gasped, completely shocked.  “You have a _forge_?!”

“Well, yes,” Sigyn said with a shrug before turning her camel’s head back towards the camp.  Pepper was amazed to see the petite miss had a parasol to ward off the sun and while her camel was more than five times the young lady’s size, she barely held the beast’s reins.   Sigyn smiled gently at her and explained, “We traveled via clockwork.  And Thor apprenticed as a smith in his youth. Whenever he journeys he travels with a mobile forge lest something befall his companies.  It has come in very handy in the past.”

Pepper shook her head with a wry laugh and settled in her saddle.  “Well, I always heard the Norse were handy during a battle but I never thought they would be so during an archeological endeavor!”

Sif nodded.  “It will be useful now I fear.  Thor has decided he will aid Anthony Stark in the only way he can.” 

“How so?” Pepper asked curiously; she found herself relaxing immensely in the women’s company and for the first time since the dawning she found some of her shame had faded. 

Sif sighed and cast her eyes around them idly before murmuring, “There was some drastic damage done to Stark’s clockwork mech.”  Pepper gasped but Sif waylaid her words.  “Do not worry, the doctor and Thor were able to aid and assist but Thor has grown weary of his brother-in-arm’s constant worry of sand destroying his heart.”  She leveled her calm gaze on the pale red-head and shrugged.  “He and Stark are designing a chest plate as we speak.” 

“A chest plate…” Pepper whispered, her fingers locked tight around the reins of her camel.  “As in _armor_?”

“Quite!” Sigyn said brightly.  “He will be like a knight in armor!  How much he will love that!”

Sif only sniffed in disdain and ran her tassled crop over her camel’s side.  “Perhaps,” she muttered, then seeing Pepper’s continued distress she said with a chuckle, “Although, you must admit, if it keeps him from complaining constantly about the wear and grind of his gears, then that is a benefit for all, yes?”

Pepper only nodded absently, her eyes locked on the horizon they rode towards and she tried to keep from feeling further guilt as to Dr. Stark’s never-ending stress.

The fact that the golden prince of Norway was constructing him a chest plate spoke volumes.

He’d been grievously injured this morning after facing the Captain.

And it was all of her fault.

“Excuse me,” she whispered to her lady companions.  “I must hurry…”

She did not finish her sentence.

Instead she kicked her camel into faster strides and soon all she was was a puff of dust in the distance. 

Sigyn studied her back thoughtfully, her light blue eyes no longer so bright and she turned to her dark companion, saying, “Well, I believe Mr. Barton was correct Sif.” 

Who simply nodded.  And smiled.

“And both are too blind and too stubborn to realize the truth,” she said as she kicked her camel into longer strides as well.  “Shall we rectify this, sister?”

Sigyn chuckled and nodded.  “Oh yes.  I think that may be wise,” she said, her voice fierce now that she had been handed a higher purpose than simply keeping an eye on Loki.  “You know I never cared for the Fujikawa heiress.”

“Mmm,” Sif hummed noncommittally as her hair streamed behind her and her maroon leather coat rippled with each rocking step of her camel.  “Very few of us ever did, sister.  But the Potts girl…”

“Oh yes.  The Potts girl, indeed,” Sigyn murmured, her lips curled in a knowing smirk.  “Thor will aid us, yes?”

“Oh yes…”

**

Captain Steve Rogers only idly noticed the sound of two camels leaving the warding later that morning after his confrontation with Stark. 

Dr. Banner had given him something for the pain, something that would aid his hand’s healing and keep him calm, so to say he was happy and relaxed at this very moment, would be quite the understatement. 

Besides, he’d battered Stark to the nth degree.

That had to count for something…

“Oh Captain,” a soft voice murmured on the edges of his consciousness.  “You really have caused quite the stir, haven’t you?” 

Normally he would have reached for his shield at the sound of somebody invading his territory, but now he simply smiled and said sleepily, “Peggy?”

“Mm,” Stark’s young cousin hummed as she took a seat beside him and began running her fingers through his golden curls.  “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” he muttered before opening his eyes to gaze at the young woman sitting beside him.  “How are you?”

She chuckled and shook her head.  “If I said I was frustrated with you and Tony would you think badly of me?”

He frowned blearily and struggled to sit up; she forced him back as he sputtered, “Frust-why?”

She sighed and moved so she was kneeling, eye-level with him.  “Why did you decide to fight my cousin this morning Captain?”

His frown grew and he strove to push the cloud of drugs from his mind.  “D-decide, Miss Carter?  I don’t-don’t remember.”

She nodded and patted his cheek.  “I figured as much.  Was it because of Miss Potts and the marks on her skin?”

He froze and suddenly his happy weariness was gone.  “Yes,” he growled and he was sitting up now, his muscles tensed and his eyes blazing furiously.  Peggy stayed kneeling, her lips curled in that enigmatic smile and she rested her chin on her hand. 

“Tony did not strike her Captain,” she said gently, her dark brown eyes indecipherable in the half-light of his tent.  “It was another.”

He hesitated, his mouth agape and gasped, “No!  But-he-she- _Stark didn’t fight me!_ ”

She shrugged.  “And you didn’t listen.  You’re both at fault.”

Rogers stared at her for a moment longer and then subsided with a grumbled sigh, his hand rising to run through his tousled hair and scruffy face.  “I confess I’m a bit confused Miss Carter.” 

She smiled and patted his hand.  “I figured you would be.  Bruce really knocked you out.”  She smiled and rose, twitching her waistcoat and light duster straight as she did so.  “Would you like to clear your head Captain?” she asked before proffering her hand for him to take.

Which he did. 

“Yes,” he said slowly, “I think that would be best…”

Her smile was so very gentle when she tugged him out of his tent and the good Captain found himself thinking he rather liked the feel of her tiny hand in his.

Which of course confused him…

“Madam I-“ he began to say as she pulled him towards the camel lines but he fell silent at the knowing smirk she shot over her shoulder.   “Where are we going?” he asked finally when she stopped at the side of her sandy haired camel.

She shrugged.

“Wherever we like Captain,” she said cheerfully as he hurried to help her climb into her saddle.  “I thought it would be nice to go exploring a bit, since we’re waiting for Tony to get his head out of the sand.” 

He smiled at that and swung into his own saddle.  “That would be very nice madam,” he said as their steeds rose with morose groans.  “I-I would like very much to get better acquainted with you.”

“Without the trials of hard riding, yes?” she said with a laugh as she tied her wide-brimmed hat in place.  Her dark eyes were sparkling and Rogers was rather enraptured of the gentle curve of her lips.  “I think this shall be quite entertaining, Captain!”

And with that, they were off. 

The moment they began heading for the western boundaries of the warding another camel rose out of the line and a lone rider sighed.

“Babysitting,” Clint Barton grumbled as his body rocked and his hat shifted on his forehead.  “That is what this journey is turning into.  Over glorified nannying.” 

He glanced down when his companion chuckled and said, “You enjoy being Peggy’s nanny though Clinton, don’t deny it.” 

“Oh shut up Banner,” the archer grumbled, his lips lifted in a wry grin and his pale blue eyes sparkling under the brim of his Western style hat.  “Get back to fixing Stark.”

Dr. Banner chuckled and waved his hand.  “Of course oh mighty one.  I shall.”  As Barton settled in his saddle and tied a bandanna close to his mouth, to keep the sand from his teeth, he pointed one blunt-nailed finger and said seriously, “Don’t lose her.  And don’t let the Captain hurt her.” 

Barton hesitated for a brief moment, his eyes locked on his friend’s departing back and sighed.  “Impossible nannying.  Figures.  Why do I always have to take care of the love-birds?  Huh, Dusty?”  He sighed when his camel did nothing but spit and he shook his head.  “Whatever, let’s get going then.  Don’t want to lose little Peg to the Pharaohs now do we?”

And with that, he too rode west, out of the warding.

Just as Dr. Stark’s young assistant arrived. 

**

Carol Danvers and Bucky Barnes had lost Rumiko Fujikawa. 

After the Japanese heiress had pulled Captain Rogers from Anthony Stark’s battered body, she had aided Dr. Banner in mending both men. 

It was entirely honorable of her.

Or it would have been.

If she had gone on to apologize to Pepper Potts.  But she hadn’t and now the SHIELD bodyguards had misplaced her.

“Her camel’s still here and her tent’s empty,” Carol sighed as she touched down beside the frustrated Sergeant.  “Can’t think of where else she could be.”

“Could have left the camp,” he grumbled, the eyeglass he held spinning from an easterly direction to a westerly.  “Nobody saw her after Banner put her and Potts to bed?”

Carol shrugged and shook her hair out before yanking her black leather gloves free of her fingers.  “Everyone’s more concerned with Stark and his damned heart Barnes.” 

He sighed.  “I know.  Damn Stark.  Rogers and the Carter girl are off for a jaunt-“

“Probably best, considering Rogers is still up-in-arms about the Potts girl,” Carol muttered as she took a swig of water from her companion’s canteen. 

He shot her a warning glare and scratched his metal shoulder idly.  “Yeah, whatever Kree.  So what do we tell the doctor?  And how do we find her?”

She shrugged.  “No idea.  Maybe we should keep it quiet and see if she comes later tonight." 

Before the man could agree or disagree, there was a blast just south of their camp and a green flash lit the sky, causing both SHIELD liaision to fall silent.  Carol's brow furrowed and her head cocked while the tattoos at her eyes writhed. 

"Magic," she breathed.  "Powerful magic."  

And then, as a woman's faint scream reached their ears, she glanced at her companion and sighed.  

"Loki," they both muttered, exasperation in their tones. 

Her eyes blazed as she lifted off the ground, the fire at her fists already lit to full, and Barnes' arm hummed with churning gears and roiling pins as the metal fingers changed to the gun he would most likely be needing before the night was through.  

"I think we found Madam Fujikawa, Danvers," he muttered as another roar filled the afternoon air.  "Let's go."

She smiled and turned her eyes towards Stark's tent just as three men emerged.  "Better yet, let's get some backup, Bucky," she said before heading in their direction.  "We're going to need it I think."  

He simply sighed and cocked the pistol emerging from the clockwork of his arm.

"Whatever you say Danvers.  Whatever you say," he muttered as he sighted down the mech in the direction of the flash and the now silent woman's scream.  "Just so long as I get to use this little toy of mine."

**

“…I’ve invented all sorts of things Dr. Stark!  My aunt’s favorite was the camera that captures moving objects!  I don’t even know how I did it; can I show you tonight after Prince Odinson has mended your chest piece?”

Peter Parker had been talking non-stop for hours, while Thor rearranged Anthony Stark’s heart.

_Hours._

“Yes Parker, fine, just _ah_!”  Stark swore and surged forward in his chair, his fingers locked tight around the arms of his chair as something snapped in his chest and the gear’s tucked along his second rib humming much more cheerfully now that some pressure had been relieved.  “ _Thor!_   Be _careful!_ ”

The eldest son of Odin glanced up at his friend with a chuckle and shook his head before shoving his friend back in his chair, screwdriver in hand and a jeweler’s knot in his eye.  “I barely touched you Anthony. I simply straightened a strut and rearranged a pin.  Be at ease my brother, the work is nearly done and then Master Parker can measure you the better for your chest piece.” 

“Gods,” Stark breathed, his hand rising to pass wearily over his eyes.  He peeked through his fingers towards where young Private Parker stood uncertainly holding the casket of his gears and sighed once more.  “What type of camera did you make, Parker?” he asked as Thor once more bent to the ticking mech in his chest.  He tried to ignore the feelings of the man’s fingers against the gears there but ultimately…

Well Thor had ever been a blunt man. 

“It-it’s a, um, well, I haven’t named it yet, sir,” Parker sputtered, his blue eyes bright in the sunlight streaming through the tent flaps.  “I thought I might name it-um…”

Stark’s eyebrows rose as the boy stammered to silence and he chuckled.  “Cat got your tongue, son? What’d you name it?” 

Thor glanced at the boy with a smile on his face and he gave the final brass strut bent out of shape in Stark’s chest a final tap of his hammer.  “We would like to know the name of your device young Peter,” he said with gentle chuckle.  “We shan’t tell any other, if that is what you wish!”

Stark snorted and shifted in his chair, his fingers trailing along the edges and ridges of his mech and his eyebrows rose even further as he watched their young companion.

Parker shifted nervously and then blurted, “I think I’ll name it the Gwendolyn, after…after, uh-“

“Your girl?” Stark said, his bruised and battered lips raised in a smile.  “Touching Parker.  Very touching…”

The boy’s mouth popped open but before he could say much to defend his invention, Dr. Banner arrived, black bag in hand and dark lensed glasses slipping down his nose.  “You should be sleeping Tony,” the doctor muttered as he set his bag down on the camp table and straightened his glasses absently.  “Your heart can’t take the strain of this morning’s attack without some more rest.” 

Thor chuckled and even the young private smiled.  Stark simply shifted in his chair and fiddled with his gears before grumbling, “Shut up Banner.”

“I think I shall go and see if the fires are hot enough to smelt the metal needed for your designs, my brother,” Thor murmured as he tucked jeweler’s knot and his various tools away in his own black bag.  His blue eyes sparkled and he folded his arms.  “You have designs yes, brother?” 

Stark shot a calming look in Banner’s direction before leaning carefully forward towards a roll of papers sitting on his desk; none of the men mentioned the soft little gasp he made as the metal, bent and battered from the Captain’s attack and then rebent thanks to Thor’s mastery, pulled in his flesh, and he handed the sheets to his blonde friend.

“They’re all there, master blacksmith,” he said with a wry grin when the Norse prince took them.  “I’ll have Parker here try to measure me out for my new suit jacket.  Don’t hold your breath though, he will most likely muss it up.”

Parker’s cheeks flushed and his mouth popped open but before he could defend himself, a woman’s voice from the entryway of the tent said, “He won’t have a proper measuring tape, sir.  And he will not know how to measure a proper inseam, I assure you.  You’ll need a steady hand for that.”

Stark froze in the process of rising out of his chair at the newcomer’s words and he craned, uselessly, around Thor’s back to see who had come. 

When he saw who it was, he sagged into his chair with a gasp and a groan and no one missed the relieved shock in his voice when he sputtered, “ _Pepper!_ ” 

His assistant shifted in the entryway, her fingers clenched tightly in front of her against the leather pants he knew she only wore when set to ride for a long distance and his heart seized.

“I tho-thought you left us,” he choked out as she smiled uncertainly and fiddled with her braid; he noticed right off she kept her face averted so as not to show off the bruises Rumiko had given her and his heart started up once more at the thought of someone close to him laying a hand on her.  “Are-are you well, Miss Potts?” he said, his voice agonized. 

He hadn’t moved from his chair.

He wasn’t sure if he would be able to.

All he could hear was Rogers bellowing in his face as he edged his shield under his mech, _You harmed Virginia, Stark!  I don’t even care if it as you who laid a hand to her!  You did nothing, said nothing, and she has the marks to prove your cowardice!  You bastard!_  

He shivered at the echo of the noble Captain America’s words and finally found his sea legs.  He barely noticed Banner’s knowing smile as he passed the other man on his way to his assistant.

He barely noticed Thor’s soft chuckle and Parker’s puppy-like grin. 

He did notice her cheeks warming and her fingers constantly fiddling with the tip of her braid and the tassels of her scarf. 

“Let me see,” he murmured when he stopped toe-to-toe to her.  “Please.”  His hand cupped her chin gently, his thumb ran gently along her jaw line and he lifted her head oh so gently.  He hummed softly when she shuddered and kept her eyes from his.  “Pepper, please, I have to know you’re well,” he said too softly for any other than her to hear. 

She glanced up at him, finally, with a smile and nod.  “I am, Dr. Stark, well, I mean.  Thank you.  I-I’m sorry for any-erm-any undue trauma I have caused,” she murmured as she pulled free of him and put some distance between their chests. 

Thor chuckled gently at that and pulled a chair for her, gesturing for her to sit and Parker scrambled out of the way as she came further into the tent.  “I, well, I simply had to go for a ride, to clear my head,” she continued as she sat at Stark’s desk, leaving him in the middle of the tent with his hand suspended and empty.

He did not miss the emptiness.

Nor the way her eyes continued to dart in his direction, despite her obvious desire to keep him at arm’s length.

“Well,” Banner said as he cleared his throat and busied himself with the clasp of his bag.  “Since I uh, you two are, uh well…Thor!  Let’s go check on the ladies.” 

And before either Stark or Potts could react, the mild-mannered doctor with a little more “umph” than previously known, grabbed the Norse Prince and the flustered Private Parker by the elbows and wrestled them from the tent.

Not before saying, though, “You both need _rest_ , so no more scheming!”  He pointed his finger to both of them with a stern frown and then he snapped the flap closed, dousing the tent in near darkness. 

Leaving Stark and his assistant quite alone. 

“I-“ she said.

“Pepper,” he said.

“Oh-“ both said at the same time.  He smiled and eased into his chair, his fingers absently toying with the edges of his clockwork.  “Please, Miss Potts,” he said with a polite gesture in her direction.  “Go ahead.”

She hesitated and then blushed, her gaze darting from his to her hands twisting in her lap.  “Are-are you well Dr. Stark?” she asked, her voice so soft he almost didn’t hear.  She glanced up and his eyebrow cocked at the obvious study she gave him, taking in the bruises at his chest and the scratched brass of his mech. 

Her eyes settled on the bruises on his cheeks and she paled.  “I am so sorry,” she whispered as she leaned forward to brush the bruises.  “I should have-I-Captain Rogers…” she sighed and her hand dropped.  “I’ve been a fool.”

Stark stared at her for a moment, his cheek still burning and before he could stop himself, he was gripping her hands and pulling her towards him.  “No, don’t say that Potts, not you.  You’re the least foolish person I know!  If anyone’s been an ass or an idiot, it’s me.”  He sighed as he brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them chastely before placing them gently back in her lap and leaned back in his chair.  “I should be on my knees groveling, begging for your forgiveness.  I’ve been a colossal fool…”

Her lips twitched in response to that and she chuckled.  “That would be quite the sight, wouldn’t it?” she said, her eyes bright.  Then she sobered and cocked her head.  “The Ladies Sif and Sigyn tell me you’re making some armor.”  She chuckled and poked him in the gears before rising.  “Should have thought of that before embarking on this little errand of yours Stark.”

He smiled but before he could say anything to defend himself, she bumped the desk with her hip and something gold and round emerged to fall off the edge; she gasped and scrambled to catch the object at the same time as Stark and both fell to their knees on the canvas floor of his tent, their fingers entangled around the heavy watch she’d dropped.

As their heads collided his thumb nudged the watch’s latch and the cover sprang free on well-oiled gears.

Their eyes met over the watch just as a sky-blue outline of a man she had not seen for twenty years rose out of the watch’s face and turned to face her.

Her gasp was lost as the man began to speak, his voice echoing from over time and Stark instinctively kept his fingers tight on hers, lending as much comfort as he could as her father, the explorer Craticus Potts smiled once more on his daughter.

_Hello Pepper:_

_I know you are too young to understand why I have not returned from the last dig your mother and I have embarked upon.  I am so sorry my darling, but I cannot tell you why or where I have gone.  Just know that your mother and I love you.  You are and always will be our greatest treasure. Be brave, my darling, you must remember that.  Our good friend Henry Pym is coming to Cairo.  He will care for you._

_Pepper, my sweet, sweet girl, I cannot tell you why your mother and I have left you.  Just know I love you Virginia Potts.  Your mother and I love you._

The moment the message ended, the spectroscope clicked off and the image stuttered before fading, Pepper hunched in on herself with a sob. 

“Papa,” she whispered, her fingers tight around the watch and her father’s last message.  “Please…”

Stark’s heart seized at the agony in her voice and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, shushing her gently as she sobbed.  “It’s all right, Potts, you’re going to be all right.” 

She did not hear his words or the gears whirring under her cheek.

All she heard were her father’s words. 

All she heard…

“How did you fix it?” she asked after a long moment of her tears running along his gears.  “It was broken…”

He simply chuckled and ran his hands briskly along her back.  “You dropped it last night after fixing me, so I thought I’d return the favor.”

She pulled back at that and he smiled, a little shakily, before running his thumbs under her eyes to wipe the tears there away. 

She did not protest his familiarity. 

Or his kindness. 

Instead…

She kissed him.

Passionately. 

“Thank you Dr. Stark,” she whispered, her fingers tangled tightly in his hair and her chest pressed tightly to his, despite the discomfort of the clockwork of his heart whirring against the embroidery of her waistcoat.  “Thank you for fixing my father’s watch.”

He smiled, a little dazzled still at the memory over her lips on his and her palms running from his chin to the hair at the nape of his neck, and shrugged.  “Not a problem.  Nothing a little bruising couldn’t fix. 

Her laughter made the beating he’d gotten at the hands of her watch-dog entirely worth it. 

He didn’t really think why.

He kissed her instead. 

 


	18. The Game Changes

“Why did you join the Army, Captain?” 

Steve Rogers glanced up at Miss Carter’s question and frowned.  “Why?” he repeated around a slice of orange he’d peeled and popped into his mouth just a moment before. 

They were sprawled in the shade of a rather stunning little oasis, their camels at their backs and their legs stretched alongside each other’s.

It was terribly improper. 

Especially considering the breeches she wore beneath her tied back skirts. 

She glanced at him from beneath the brim of her straw hat and nodded.  “Of course, why ever did you join the Army?” she asked with a tiny smile and a flick of the fan she held.  “It’s a noble cause of course and I am not judging but one must wonder why a man of your… _talents_ sought to join-up.”

“Talents,” he said slowly and then his eyes fell to the sketchpad he held.  “Oh,” he breathed and she chuckled throatily at the sight of his cheeks flooding with color.  “I didn’t realize-I-I’m sorry Miss Carter,” he stammered as he snapped the little book closed and actually sat upon it. 

She laughed outright at that then and nudged him with his elbow.  “So shy, Captain!” she crowed before stretching across his chest to tug at his well-muscled arm.  “Come, don’t be ashamed!  I was rather enjoying watching you sketch!” 

His cheeks flamed an even deeper red in his tanned face as her soft feminine form pressed against his chest and he sputtered a bit when she finally managed to free the book.  “Miss Carter-“ he began weakly as she held the book reverently in her hands and shot him a calculating glance.  “Will you show me sir?” she asked, her dark eyes sparkling in the Egyptian sunlight. 

She did not flip through the book herself. 

Instead, she waited for him.

To decide whether he could actually show another living soul his work. 

He sighed after a moment of intense thinking and nodded.  “Very well,” he said softly before taking the book from her open palms.  “But I am warning you, they are not a master’s works.  You won’t find them in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I assure you.” 

She only chuckled and patted his arm.  “I daresay I’ll be the judge of that Captain.” 

His cheeks flushed once more but he did not shy from her touch.  With a deep breath he closed his eyes, winged a prayer to any gods (Egyptian or otherwise) who may be watching, and flipped the book open to the page he had only just begun to mark. 

Her gasp was loud in the still silence of their oasis and his heart stuttered in his chest. 

He did not open his eyes. 

He did not breathe.

And then…

“Oh Steve, this is beautiful,” she whispered and her fingers were soft against his and her body was a comforting pressure against his side.  “Really, so beautiful…”

He opened his eyes finally and a small smile darted across his lips at the soft look of wonder on her face.

He had drawn her from when they first arrived at the oasis, standing straight backed and proud, beside her camel (a bare outline as of now, with just a hump and a tail to denote any ungulate characteristics).  The wind had caught her skirts, just before she tied them up to her waist with a strip of hemp, and blown them against her legs.  She had laughed at that and said cheekily, _Even the desert longs to see my legs Captain Rogers!  I daresay I’ll indulge it!_

His hand had particularly lingered on her dark curls tumbling and twisting beneath her straw hat and even now he found his eyes drawn to the dark mass curling down her back.  He knew he should tell her to wrap a scarf or veil about their weight, but for now…

For now he simply wished to see them in their glory. 

She was bent over the sketch, ever careful not to smudge the lines he’d etched upon the acid-free parchment, and when she raised wonder-filled eyes to his, he murmured, with an enigmatic smile and a gentle stroke of her curls, “I rather like the model better.  I don’t think charcoal could ever hope to capture her spirit.”   

She blushed and leaned, imperceptibly into his touch.  “Do you always use charcoal?  I always thought it would be a rather messy tool,” she said thoughtfully as she studied the drawing in her hands. 

He shrugged one shoulder, his face still red and a part of him (a very large part in all actuality) reveled in the soft smell of her, the gentle feel of her at his side. 

“Captain,” she whispered softly, her lips forming words she’d been longing to say for two weeks now but never had the time or gumption to voice.

Before she could though, there was a now-familiar bellow of a horn in the distance. 

Both froze, their faces inches apart, his hand still resting against her cheek and their eyes locked in horror as another short blast rocked over their little corner of peace.

“Dammit,” Rogers swore as he surged into action.  “The camp!  Margaret, mount-up please!”

She was pale, even as he handed her into the saddle and she breathed as his camel rose to join hers, “What’s happened?  You don’t think-they’re not under _attack_ are they?”

He gave no answer, simply twitched his burnoose over his nose and mouth and flicked his crop. 

“Ride,” he snapped as another ominously distant bellow greeted the quiet shuffing of sand beneath their camel’s feet.  “Ride, Margaret!”

And with a sharp smack of his tasseled crop to her camel’s rump, they were off, their pace as desperate and silent as any they had made within the past few days. 

Neither knew what they would face when they crossed the warding.

Neither _wished_ to know. 

 _Damn it all to hell,_ he thought as he rocked with his beast’s strides and his eyes locked on the back of the girl riding before him.  _If this is Stark’s doing, I swear, I’ll finish what I started this morning._

His thoughts lacked any real conviction though.

The oasis had calmed him as nothing else could.

Well…possibly the company he had had within the oasis had done more for his temperament than the actual location. 

But it did not do to dwell on such things.

Not when Barnes kept blowing the call-to-arms.    

As for Peggy Carter…

Well, the only thoughts going through her head during their desperate chase was, _Please don’t let me fall off this brute’s back in front of the Captain.  However will I relive_ that _down._ Closely followed by, _I do hope he is enjoying the view…_

They were both panting and gritty by the time they crossed the warding, the Captain’s bellowed orders snapping the ethereal veil back in place the moment their camel’s tails flicked over the stone edging. 

Sand whipped around them, clouding their sight for a brief moment and Peggy inhaled a mouthful just as she opened her mouth to shout of Tony or Bruce or even Barton.  Instead her mouth snapped closed and she began to cough the sand from her lungs.

 _Damn,_ she thought wildly.  _I do hate the desert._

Neither noticed Clint Barton’s camel easing through the warding behind them.  Neither knew he’d been keeping an eye on their doings from a discreet distance. 

The Captain probably would have put more of a distance between their legs if he had.  And he most definitely would not have spent his morning sketching the young Stark cousin. 

Barton’s eyes were sharp on his back, his gaze thoughtful but he did not take the time to lecture. 

Something had obviously happened while they were away and the Captain was frantic to discover what. 

“What the hell is going on?!” he shouted as their camels stormed into the center of the camp.  He was half-raised in the saddle, his muscular arms strained against his camel’s reins and his blue eyes blazed beneath the brim of his bucket hat.  “Barnes!  Report!” 

The remaining members of his team were grouped together in the center of camp; his heart froze at the pallor of their cheeks and their unusual silence.  This group was never silent, never calm.  Always, someone was arguing with another or testing weapons or singing.  Never silent. 

“What happened?” he asked, marginally quieter now and he swore all he could hear was the sound of his heart hammering in his ears. 

Several pairs of worried and terrified eyes settled on their Captain but none responded right away; all of them looked to be in shock. 

Sergeant James Barnes lowered his horn with a sigh and took a step forward to report but he simply shook his head and gestured towards Banner’s tent

It was Pepper who spoke up. 

“Rumiko and Loki, Captain.  They, uh, found Bobbi in the desert.  She w-was attacked,” she said and that’s when he noticed the blood on her hands and the rolled bandages she held.  “Loki managed to uh, _transport_ her and the men pursuing her into our care,” she said gently as Barnes stretched out a shaking hand towards his camel’s reins.

Peggy was wide-eyed at his side.

The women from Thor Odinson’s camp rushed to her side but he did not see or hear.

Any of it.

All he heard was…

“Who?” he snarled as his boots shifted in the sand and he swung his shield into his arms; his blue eyes were blazing with his anger and fear and only Pepper Potts was brave enough to approach him, which she did.  Calmly.  His eyes locked on her and he snarled once more, in her face, “ _Who are they?!_ ”

Everyone assembled winced at his bellow and Pepper gestured towards the SHIELD side of the camp before saying, “They’re being held over there.  You-you might want to be careful, they injured Peter trying to escape.  Carol and Thor are-are keeping watch on them now and Rumiko is sewing him up.  It’s nothing major just a head-”

“He’s my responsibility,” he snapped as he turned to go to his men.  “I’ll judge for myself how dangerous my people’s injuries are, thank you.  Since that seems to be the only thing I’m good for.”

He did not miss her wince.

Or the paling of her cheeks.   

She simply nodded and turned on her heel to make her way to Dr. Banner’s tent.  “Bobbi is in Dr. Banner’s care,” she murmured.  “You should check on Peter first.  He’ll need your support more than her at this point.”

Her voice was cold and distant. 

He did not notice. 

“Barnes, with me,” he snapped as he began to head in the direction of his camp. His friend and colleague followed after a moment. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to Pepper as he passed and the metal fingers of his hand squeezed hers gently. 

She only spared him a tiny smile and a nod.  “It’s all right.  He’s scared and hurting.  Go help him James.” 

He saluted.  “Yes ma’am,” he muttered and then he turned to hurry after his Captain. 

Pepper watched them go for a moment and then she took a deep breath before turning to head into Dr. Banner’s tent. 

Her arms were tight around the bandages she held. 

No one noticed her fingers shaking. 

Or the tears standing in her eyes. 

“How is she?” she asked as the flap settled behind her and her eyes adjusted to the dim light within the tent. 

“She’ll live,” Bruce Banner sighed as he sat up from studying Bobbi’s eyes, his exotic particle lenses in place so he could better view her internal organs.   

“It’s just a concussion,” Anthony Stark muttered as he bent over the pale girl lying before them on Banner’s cot.  “She’ll be fine.  Did you bring the bandages?  We should get her head wrapped up.”   

“The Captain’s back,” she whispered as she handed the rolled bandages to the men. 

Both men nodded absently and the woman they worked on groaned before opening her eyes painfully.  “Ugh, the Captain?  Is he here?” she whispered as Dr. Banner began brushing her hair away from the painful gash on her temple.  He shushed her and pushed her gently back but she ignored his hands and his voice.  “I have to report to him, please.”

Her blue eyes were desperate and a little less than aware. 

She sighed and rubbed her forehead, her eyes scrunched in pain before groaning, “Hammer’s team is down.  They-they’re _down._ Logan-Logan needs us!  And you’re doting on me like a pair of wet nurses!” 

All three froze in the process of trying to fix and calm their sweet-faced SHIELD liaison and three pairs of eyes settled on her in shock.

“Did you say-“ Banner breathed as she clutched his fingers and whimpered.

“ _Hammer’s down?!_ ” Stark snapped, his blue eyes wild as she swung her legs off of the cot and simultaneously sagged against Banner’s pillows.  Stark caught her head and leaned over her, his voice harsh as he barked, “ _Bobbi!_   Can you hear me?”

“I’ll get the Captain,” Pepper whispered, her eyes wide and her heart hammering in her chest.  “Keep her calm.”

Before the men could stop her, she was rushing from the tent once more, her eyes wild and Bobbi’s words ringing in her ears.   

“Steve!” she shouted as she neared his camp.  “Steve, where are you?  Please, hurry!” 

She skidded into the camp and gasped as a truly horrifying sight greeted her eyes. 

“Captain!” she shouted, her voice sharp in the still silence overhanging their escort’s headquarters.  “Stop that right now!”

Steve Rogers did not look up at the sound of her voice. 

Instead, he smashed his shield into the jaw of the man he held to the ground.

**

“ _Where are they_?!” 

The Captain’s roar rocked through SHIELD’S camp and the people within its circle jumped in response, their eyes widening as they took in his furious glare and the shield he held so tightly. Carol stood slowly as he prowled between the tents in her direction.  Her blue eyes, framed by the delicate lines of the tattoos she’d been marked with since stumbling upon the Kree treasure ships in the Amazon, narrowed. 

“Mind slowing down for me Captain?” she asked, her voice soft but cautionary.  He ignored her.  “Oi!  Cap!  Listen to me!” she shouted as he moved to push past her.  Her hands slammed against his chest and his steps stilled impossibly against her touch; a faint golden glow limned her fingers and her eyes blazed in the afternoon sunlight.  “Take a breath Rogers,” she snapped, quiet command in her voice.  “You’re not helping matters.”    

They glared at each other for a moment, each panting as he strained against her grip and her eyes narrowed as his teeth ground into a silent snarl. 

“You really don’t want to do that, _sir_ ,” she hissed when she caught sight of his shield arm tensing.  “You might hurt yourself.” 

He stilled at that and then lowered his shield.  “Fine, Danvers. Fine,” he growled and he relaxed just slightly against her hands. 

She still glared at him, her eyes blazing softly in the sunlight as she considered him and his slowly calming fury.  Then, with a brisk nod, she lowered her hands.  “All right Captain,” she said quietly.  “Just take it easy.  Peter’s a bit shaken.” 

“Where is he?” he asked, his voice marginally calmer now that she had waylaid some of his mad rush.  “What happened?”

Carol Danvers hesitated and then lowered her gloved fingers from his chest with a sigh.  “Some of Hammer’s team followed Bobbi,” she explained as they made their way towards Private Parker’s tent.  Rogers shot her a questioning glare but she waved his questions away.  “No, don’t ask me yet Cap.  I’m still figuring it out,” she said quietly.  “As far as I can tell, Logan, Ororo and Bobbi somehow managed to get the _Lady Beatrice_ dismantled.  _Don’t ask me how_ , Bobbi wasn’t making much sense when Loki and Fujikawa arrived and the bastards who clobbered her aren’t saying anything.” 

She glanced out of the corner of her eye in time to see a nerve begin ticking in the Captain’s jaw and she winced.  “She’s going to be okay Steve,” she said quietly, her fingers settling on his arm.  He shot her an indecipherable look and she sighed before turning to Parker’s tent.  “Check on Peter, I’ll let Thor know you’re coming to see our _guests._ ” 

Before he could question her further, she was turning, the scarlet fringes of her scarf trailing in the wind as she did and he sighed.  “Damn it all to hell,” he muttered while his fingers fiddled with the straps of his shield. “Gone for a couple hours and the whole camp goes to hell.”

Then, with a deep breath, he eased into Peter Parker’s tent, his jaw tight and his ice-blue eyes blazing at the sight of his young Private sprawled on his cot with Madam Fujikawa and Prince Loki attending the nasty gash in his side.

“Hey Cap!” the kid piped up with a wince.  “Sorry about this, I thought I could stop the Punisher but he just slammed me out of the way.”

Rogers’ ears pricked at the name and he frowned.  “’Punisher’?” he repeated slowly.  “Do you mean-“

Parker nodded wearily and sighed.  “Yes sir, Castle, Murdock, sir, along with someone I don' know.  They thought-thought she was part of Hammer’s team, I think sir.  At least-it wouldn’t make sense for them to side with the man, since he’s, you know-“

“Corrupt,” Rumiko supplied as she tied off his last bandage and ran her fingers gently through his hair.

Rogers studied the three people sitting before him silently for a moment, his eyes lingering on the young man Rumiko insisted on fussing over and then on the dark haired prince sprawled in the camp chair at the head of Parker’s cot.  He was fiddling with his walking stick, his fingers stroking over the blue crystal set in its head and his green eyes were indecipherable in the shadows of the tent. 

His lips curled into a small smirk when he noticed the Captain’s calculating gaze and he shrugged one shoulder. 

“My understanding, _sir_ ,” he murmured, his voice a soft growl in the still tent, “is Miss Morse stumbled upon their camp quite by accident.  They’ve been sent to, erm, _clean-up_ so to speak.  By a rather secretive group of people to the south.”  He rose, unfolding his long body in one smooth motion and his dark eyes sparkled with some unknown mischief.  “A group I rather think one or two of your number may be acquainted with.” 

He shrugged into his gold and emerald embroidered waistcoat, that small smile still in place and continued, “I would speak to them Captain, you might discover some allies in their numbers.” 

And then, before Rogers could question him about his cryptic words, he grabbed his black coat, gold colored ascot and top hat and exited the tent with a disdainful flick of his walking stick. 

Rogers sighed and rubbed his forehead on the back of his hands.  Then, with a glance to the Private and his impromptu nurse he asked, “You’re sure you’re all right Peter?”

The boy nodded and yawned, “Sure Cap, just a little tired now,” he sighed. 

Rumiko patted his hand and when the Captain offered her his arm, she rose with a sigh as well.  “Dr. Banner leant me some of his opium supply for Private Parker.  It should keep him easy for the night and help his wounds to heal,” she murmured as she twitched her skirts straight and tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear.  Her dark eyes were calm, despite the excitement of the past day and Rogers wondered if she had found healing as well in the desert. 

“I am not sure you should be present for this ‘interview’, Madam Fujikawa,” he muttered as the slipped out of Parker’s tent and hesitated under the awning.  He squinted in the sunlight and turned back to his companion.  “I do not know what you may see or hear.”

She smiled gently and patted his arm before sliding free of his polite hold.  “Thank you for your concern, Captain Rogers,” she murmured, her dark eyes mild as she studied him thoughtfully.  “I think I shall go check on Tony and Margaret.”  She hesitated and the asked, “Are you sure you don’t wish to speak with Sergeant Morse before confronting her attackers?"

Rogers hesitated as well and then a fierce smile darted across his lips.  “No, Madam Fujikawa,” he muttered as he slid the shield’s straps across his arms and buckled them tightly.  “If Frank Castle is in my camp, I want to talk to him first.” 

She gazed at him thoughtfully for a bit longer and then nodded.  “I’ll keep the ladies entertained then.  I don’t like the looks of the men Loki captured.  They are…rough to say the least.”

Rogers snorted and watched her leave the camp, making sure she was well-and-clear of SHIELD’s bounds before making his way towards the impromptu stockade he could just make out past Carol Danvers’ tent. 

There were three men gathered there, their personages overshadowed by the towering figures of the Odinson princes, Sergeant Barnes and Carol Danvers.

All were silent, their jaws tight and their bodies quivering with barely restrained anger.  Rogers could almost smell the hatred rolling off of those assembled and he sighed.  Then, before anyone noticed him arriving silently in the camp, he snarled, “Castle, you will report now, soldier.  What are you doing in Egypt?”

All jumped and his people turned to face him, their eyes wide with surprise and maybe a little trepidation but he did not focus on them.  Instead he directed his attention to the glowering monster of a man sitting chained to a boulder.  He was all in black, despite the insufferable Egyptian heat, and without his guns and knives Rogers could almost say he didn’t recognize him. 

Until his eyes landed on the white skull emblem emblazoned on the man’s chest.

“Hello Cap,” the man growled, his gravelly voice bringing to mind shadows and blood stained cobble streets.  “Been a long time, hasn’t it?  How’s the Parker kid?  I told him to stand down, but well…”  He shrugged one shoulder with some difficulty, thanks to the heavy chains holding him down but none missed the faint glitter in his eyes.

Rogers’ jaw tightened and he resisted the desire to smash his shield into the man’s teeth.  Instead he crouched in front of him, ignoring the other two at his sides, and studied him carefully, silently.   

Frank Castle.  The Punisher.  A Marine chaplain who had served with him during the Civil War.  He had been a kind man those days, more devoted to mercy than his current bloody version of justice.  And then his family had been slaughtered.

Brutally. 

By a shadowy league of clockwork-assassins called the Costa’s.  No one was sure, but many thought the little family had witnessed the coal-powered mech stealing a clockwork device of astounding power for their masters.  A device capable of killing scores of innocents. 

The Punisher had been born of the need for revenge.  He’d taken it upon himself to punish those who sought to do harm, to commit crime, to do evil.  Primarily, those who used clockwork to enact their dirty deeds. 

He made no secret of how much he loathed mech. 

He killed them all and called it justice, even as gears crumbled at his feet and blood smeared into dark oil to run into the gutters.

The last Rogers had heard, he had been working within Hell’s Kitchen, the slums of New York City, in hopes of ridding the burrow of the shadowy scum the likes of which had slaughtered his family. 

He’d been on SHIELD’s watch for a while, years actually, but none had mentioned he’d migrated from the City

Rogers’ head cocked and his eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun beating down on the sand around them and he sucked his teeth for a moment; behind him, his men (and woman) shifted warily and he could almost feel Carol Danvers summoning her powers.  The amount of distrust this group had for each other was stunning. 

Scary, even. 

“What are you doing in Egypt, Castle?” he asked, his voice pitched low and his ice-blue eyes blazing with his command.   “Why did you attack Bobbi Morse?  Why did you follow her and try to ascertain she never arrived at our camp?” 

Castle’s pale blue eyes locked on his and he smiled through his beard.  “Wouldn’t believe me if I told you the truth, Rogers,” he growled and his chains rattled ominously as he shifted back against his boulder, his long legs stretching out in front of him to cross at the ankles. 

He almost looked relaxed.

Except, of course, this was Frank Castle.  Rogers wasn’t even sure the man knew what it meant to relax.    

One of the men at his side spoke up then, his voice mild in the tense stillness of their pow-wow and Rogers gaze turned away from the Punisher’s in surprise at the familiar voice.  “We thought she was part of Justin Hammer’s team.  We acted accordingly; I am sorry we acted wrongly Captain Rogers.  And I am sure Frank is very sad he struck Peter Parker so harshly.  He will apologize accordingly, once you free us.”

Castle and Barnes snorted while Thor chuckled and Carol grumbled under her breath, _Free, them?  Right…_

Their Captain ignored them. 

“Murdock,” Rogers sighed, his hand rising to rub at his forehead once more at the sight of Matthew Murdock, a rather skilled lawyer, and self-pronounced guardian of the weak, sitting meekly and unchained at Castle’s side; Rogers’ eyes closed and he wondered if this was perhaps a heat-dementia wrought hallucination.  Why else would these two men be here?  “What are _you_ doing in Egypt?!”

“Better yet,” Barnes growled from behind him and he sighed again.  “Who’s guarding Hell’s Kitchen without you lot skulking in the shadows?”

Neither man answered.

Instead, it was the third, cloaked with his face shrouded in the deep confines of his hood, who spoke, his deep voice mellow and full of power; Loki stiffened in response to the subtle magic all could smell rolling off the man and Carol hissed, her eyes blazing as her Kree powers surged into life.  Her blonde hair streamed with electron-energy and her eyes blazed as everyone shifted in response to the third prisoner’s voice.  

And his subtle exertion of power.

“They work for a higher calling than the scullions of slums,” the shadowy figure stated as he rose slowly. 

Rogers surged to his feet in response, his shield raised for battle and his teeth gritted into a silent snarl at the sight of chains falling unheeded to the figure’s feet.

“Who are you?” he snarled as his men arrayed themselves at his back and the black-cloaked figure’s hands rose to settle at his deep hood.  “State your purpose now and stand _down_.” 

“I will not, Captain,” the deep voice murmured as the gloved fingers closed along the edges of the hood and began to draw it down.  “You must understand that what is occurring here and I must help you understand.”

The hood fell and everyone froze in response to the face its removal revealed. 

“ _Doctor Strange_?!” Barnes and Rogers sputtered in shock as the man’s pale grey eyes settled on them and his lips curled into a small smile.  “Damn it all to hell, what are you doing here?!  With _them_?!” Rogers’ asked with a disdainful gesture of his shield in Castle and Murdock’s direction. 

“I am looking for one Virginia Potts and her employer, Dr. Anthony Stark,” the man said calmly, his hands folding themselves into the sleeves of his robe; he was utterly unfazed by the shifting of hands on weapons and the faint silver gleam of the shield turned in his direction. 

Rogers’ eyes widened but before anyone could stop him his shield flew through the air to strike the graying man standing before him in the chest;  Carol gasped as his knee pressed into Strange’s throat and Loki’s eyes narrowed as he watched the fallen man’s eyes darken with power.

“Captain,” he began, his voice mild but Rogers’ shot him a silencing glare and the Norse Prince subsided with a shrug. 

“What do you want with Miss Potts?” Rogers snarled into Strange’s face, his shield suspended, ready to once more strike the man down. 

Strange simply cocked an eyebrow and murmured, “You should think on your actions, Captain.  You are dabbling in something of great power here and if you do not proceed with caution, you may find yourself… _lost._ ”

Rogers hesitated at the sight of the man’s eyes darkening but he shook himself.  “Answer the question, Strange!” he bellowed.

No answer came.

So he brought his shield down, intent upon smashing the man’s teeth in. 

The dangerous edge of the graffiti covered shield slammed into sand covered bedrock instead of flesh though as a woman’s voice shrieked, “Captain, stop that right now!”

The shield hummed dangerously and he turned quickly, in time to see the black cloaked figure he had just knelt upon, twitch his cloak straight and turn to the just arrived Pepper Potts.

“Pepper!” he bellowed in terror as she skidded to a halt before Doctor Strange, her eyes flying wide in response to his sudden appearance before her and her gasp was loud in the tense silence of the group.  Rogers was on his feet in a moment but it was too late. 

Strange bowed before the red-haired woman and greeted her calmly. 

“Miss Virginia Potts, I presume?  Called ‘Pepper’ by those who love and cherish her?”

She paled and tried to take a step away from the looming man before her but all could tell she was rooted to the spot.

Only the other magic user in their midst could tell it was not of her design though. 

“Y-yes,” she choked as Strange held his hand out for her to take, palm up and fingers crooked gently.  She did not place hers into his.  “Who-who are you?” 

Only she could see the small smile that lifted his lips and softened the harsh lines on his face. 

Only she saw the faint trickle of power in his eyes. 

As well as the symbol on the medal he wore around his throat.

It was a symbol she vaguely recognized. 

She gasped. 

She’d seen the pitchfork insignia before, when she had been very little.  When her parent’s had been alive. 

She’d seen it in their library. 

“ _Who are you?!_ ” she hissed, her blue eyes blazing fiercely despite the obvious danger she was in.  “ _What do you want?!_ ”

His fingers slipped once more into the sleeves of his cloak and everyone tensed in response; but before SHIELD’s soldiers or the Princes could react, the shadowy sorcerer removed an envelope from his sleeves and handed it to the trembling woman standing before him.

His smile grew as she took the parchment hesitantly from him.

She gasped at the familiar handwriting on its front, her name scrawled there as nonchalantly as if it had been nothing but mere moments since he had written to her.  

Last held her. 

“Your father sends you his regards and a most important message, Virginia ‘Pepper’ Potts,” the man standing before her murmured when her shocked and wild eyes rose to meet his calm and enigmatic gaze. 

The sound of parchment ripping was as loud as thunder in the very tense, very still silence of the SHIELD camp. 

No one breathed as she removed the letter buried within and began to read. 

No one breathed.

Everyone waited to see what the ghost of Craticus Potts had written to his daughter. 

No one breathed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, the madness. 
> 
> So I posted this as a draft a few days ago in hopes of updating when I realized I was missing something essential. And apparently this means it shows up as an update. 
> 
> Damn, what a tease. 
> 
> So here it is, final and perfect (not really.)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> Just a few more chapters (7 to be exact! Wow-scary stuff!) 
> 
> Hope you liked it! 
> 
> -M


	19. A Night of Mooonlit Mech

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, it's been a long time coming.
> 
> I'm sorry about that.
> 
> I kind of lost steam (heh heh) on this story because it just kind of got ridiculously out of control.
> 
> But it's okay now. 
> 
> I think I got it fixed.
> 
> Maybe. 
> 
> Whatever, here's a good, long one for you and please don't kill me for taking so long to update.
> 
> -M

_My dearest Pepper,_

_I have been told you accompany a group of American explorers to Saqqara.  I do not pretend to understand why you decided to journey with them, although I imagine the mystery surrounding your mother’s and my disappearance when you were but a babe was enough to fuel your desire to journey forth from Cairo._

_My darling...I do not have the standing to stop you nor will I ask for you to cease this journey.  But I must warn you…_

_Saqqara is dangerous._

_Saqqara is a tomb.  But it is not like the tombs you have crawled through since you were small.  Saqqara is Doctor Anthony Stark’s tomb._

_You know what burden he bears, you know what ticks in the place of his heart.  And I suspect you know, to a point what it is he searches for._

_Power._

_Unlimited power that will replace the gears in his chest._

_Pepper, it is not what he thinks it is._

_It will destroy him._

_It will destroy you._

_Saqqara is not safe and my darling daughter, if I could, I would stop you from coming to this pyramid I rot away in._

_But I know you too well, my sweet, sweet daughter._

_And I know Howard’s son._

_I will see you in three night’s time, according to Stephen, and I dread every moment of that meeting.  I love you but I fear for you._

_I fear for you and Stark._

_I am sorry, my Pepper, for what will happen when you step foot in Saqqara._

_Ever yours,_

_Your father, Craticus Potts_

_**_

They had never broken camp as fast as they did that night.

The newcomers were still bound, Carolyn Danvers and Bucky Barnes their appointed guardians and the rest of their suddenly massive party hurried to gather scattered belongings and camels.

The two invalids watched the pandemonium through an opiate stupor that Dr. Banner made sure to keep updated and both Peggy and Rumiko made sure to check on each patient diligently.  No one in camp questioned Rumiko’s care and no one thought to wonder where Pepper had gone.

Except Stark.

“Pepper?” he called as he eased his way through the reeds leading towards the edge of the pool they’d fallen into the night before.  “Miss Potts?  Are you well?”

He could hear the tell-tale sounds of a woman crying.  Could hear his strong as iron assistant sniffling into the Nile and he did not know how to help her.

“Pepper.”  

She did not turn at the sound of his voice directly behind her, she simply huddled into herself and tugged her burnoose close around her face.  “Go away,” she whispered as he squatted on his bootheels behind her.  He did not go away, instead he reached over her shoulder and tugged the crumpled parchment of her father’s letter from her hands.

She did not fight him.

After all…

It signified his doom as much as hers.

The pool was silent for a long moment as he read and the soft breeze sweeping down on them from the Nile ruffled his hair and fiddled with the fringes of her head-scarf.

The rich scent of him, something she wished she would never recall from the night before, drifted across her nose and she realized a moment too late she was leaning into him, taking comfort from his very presence and as he read her father’s letter she longed for him to tell her he would heed her father’s words.

“This letter could be a ruse, you know Pep,” he murmured after a while, his voice soft, thoughtful, vague in the oppressive heat of the desert.  “It could be something written by my enemies, intent on swaying me from Saqqara.  It could be many things.”  

His fingers trailed gently over her burnoose, far softer than she could ever feel and Pepper thought for a moment on his words.

Thought and came to a decision within herself.  

“It is not a ruse, but neither is it entirely truthful,” she said with a glance over her shoulder towards her dark haired companion.  His brow rose but he did not question her.  Instead he helped her rise and watched as she slid her feet into her boots and hurriedly laced them once more.  Then, as she straightened and he felt his patience start to thin, she patted his cheek and smiled.  “It’s a code,” she said with a soft chuckle and a bright eyed wink in his direction.  

Stark was left at the pool, his eyes wide and his mouth agape, as she made her way through the reeds back towards the bustling camp and he shook his head.

“Damn you Potts,” he muttered as he hurried after her, the reeds tugging at his coat and hair.  “Damn you to the depths.”  

There was no malice in his voice or bearing though.

No malice.

He barely winced when the Captain bellowed for him to mount his camel, barely glanced at Banner or Barton or their captives, riding upon their own camels in the middle of the caravan.  

He simply kicked his camel to Pepper’s side and smiled grimly at her as she tugged her scarf over her nose and he buttoned his coat firmly over his heart.  

He did not greet Rumiko or his cousin.

He simply watched her, watched her eyes drift vaguely towards the darkening horizon before them and frown to herself.

He did not ask about the code she had supposedly found.  

He did not ask about the letter.

He simply rode and waited.

And wondered if Hammer had been neutralized.

He did not notice the magician smiling under the hood of his cape or Loki watching the magician with dark intent in his gaze.

He simply waited.

**

“Tell me what you’re doing here Natasha!”

Logan’s bellow rocked through the dirigible crash site and the red-haired woman sighed before settling her booted foot more firmly upon Wade Wilson’s neck; he squirmed and squawked but did not slip free.  She smiled coldly down at him and fiddled with her bracelets, eliciting a few errant sparks of energy, that danced down her fingers to spark off into the darkening desert.  

“What do you think I’m doing Logan?” she asked, her voice like velvet and death, making all of the men in the camp shiver and Ororo’s eyes to roll.  Cat-like green eyes drifted from the bristling Lieutenant and his Sergeant to the captured Hammer crew, of which there were ten in various states of rank, humanity and gender.

If mech could have a gender.  

The Cook, a mechanized wonder of clockwork, brass and a certain kind of protectiveness towards her employers that disturbed even the unshakable spy, clicked her slender fingers and hummed sullenly in the back of her vocal sack; after nearly five hours of constant exposure to the elements, she and her staff, consisting entirely of machinery, had seen a decrease in mechanized aptitude.

And it was starting to frustrate them.  

Natasha shuddered and turned her gaze back to Logan, who was smoking and sharpening the center blade of his left gauntlet on a silver platter he’d found in Hammer’s fallen balloon.  The iron-monger scowled from where he sat, bound and gagged to a handy palm tree swooping over a charming little oasis they’d managed to drag their prisoners and gear to, but the soldiers ignored him.  

He’d been bound with one of Coulson’s favorite field devices-a certain kind of cable that could not be sliced, burned or tugged free once a knot had been placed in it’s length.  It was handy for captives and runaway camels and as such was part of every SHIELD pack.  

Natasha used it for many things.

More than camels, at least.  

Her smirk grew and as Logan’s claws sharpened and shreds of silver curled between his toes, she sighed once more and decided to reveal part of her doings, here in the desert.  

“I was sent to sabotage Hammer,” she said as she bounced her foot once-twice upon Wade’s throat.  The mercenary whined and writhed but she continued to ignore him, opting instead to engage her boot’s clever knife, which sprang out upon a silent spring at her toe, to press insistently against the dapper red and black suited gentleman’s throat.  

The whining ceased immediately and she continued her explanation.  

“Colonel Fury needed someone of... _dubious_ history to study Hammer’s endeavors, judge the level of risk such endeavors attained and as such, neutralize as was best for the mission.”

She shook her hair out once more, content to leave it at that, however skeletal the truth truly was and Logan drew on his pipe for a long moment, considering her words and her typical efficiency in “neutralizing” the enemy.  

“Right,” he growled around his smoldering cigar as his dark eyes drifted from the red haired spy smirking before him to his favorite Sergeant.  “Suit you Munroe?” he asked as she shifted her weather machine from the sand to her camel’s back, now that it was no longer needed, Hammer’s balloon completely destroyed.

She jumped, her eyes distracted and her thoughts entirely caught up at the mere memory of how much damage she was actually able to wreak with such a peculiar device and she nodded.

“Yes, yes it’s fine Logan,” she said, her accented voice mild and his frown deepened as he took in the slight tremble in her fingers and the pale streak in her dark hair.  He found he could not remember it being there, before the night’s festivities but as he considered her pallid appearance and her waning energy, he decided to leave her be.

And get their camp assembled.

He flicked his cigar butt away and flicked his claws back into their guantlet; then, as he tossed the very much ruined silver platter, embossed with Hammer’s initials and a charming engraving of the very much deceased _Lady Beatrice_ drifting over the English countryside, at the former’s feet he grinned.  “Well, remember how to pitch a tent Romanova?” he growled as he headed for his own slumbering camel and the rudimentary pack it carried.  

Natasha snorted and bent to bind Wilson tightly with several lengths of Coulson’s cord.  “I think I can manage it, Logan,” she murmured and Wilson yelped as she forced him to kneel upon his bootheels, his hands tucked into the small of his arched back and his mouth thoroughly gagged with her black headscarf.  

“Be a good boy,” she purred in his ear as she wrapped cord tightly around his throat before looping it down to his wrists and his heels.  “And maybe I’ll let you fight me with those damn Bronx made katanas you love so much Wilson,” she finished as she finished off her clever network of deadly tight ropes strangling his limbs and he sighed as she patted his cheek.  

One minute wriggle forced the ropes to tighten around his throat and he swallowed nervously at the feel of cold metal pressing upon his nethers; he tried to not imagine a deadly blade, most likely coated in the poison of Amazonian frogs or even the Egyptian scorpions he’d heard so much about since departing for Saqqara, slicing slowly into his skin through the layers of wool and cotton he wore.  

He tried.

And he failed.

“Mmmph-mmmPHAAAA,” he shouted through his gag as the red haired assassin sashayed her way over to where the furry Lieutenant was putting together a tiny field tent.  

She simply glanced over her shoulder in his direction and winked.

Slowly.

Green eyes glinted in the bright moonlight streaming around them and he shivered.

Which of course caused cold rope to tighten and a tiny blade to press him quite insistently right there in his nether regions.  

It was so terribly uncomfortable.

And yet...not.

“Mmmph-aaaaaaah,” he sighed as he wriggled slightly in his ropes and his eyes drifted closed.

He did not see the disgusted looks Hammer and his daughter shot in his direction every now and then.

Did not see.

And did not care.  

“Mmph.”

**

“What is the code, Miss Potts?” Anthony Stark blurted several hours into their desperate ride.  His gears spun ever onward, ticking his heart through life but his patience was not so boundless.

Though, it could be argued, it was just as susceptible to sand as the brass glowing cheerfully through his ribs.  

She had not spoken for hours, to anyone, had simply assisted Dr. Banner with his charges when the good doctor asked for aid on the brief respites the Captain allowed them throughout the night and fiddled with the tiny typewriter he recognized as Banner’s invention. She was typing furiously, the ball cradled in her lap and her camel’s reins looped tightly around her braced left leg; she rode as easily as ever, obviously not exhausted, despite having not slept for nearly twenty-four hours.  If he could see her eyes he knew he’d see the ever familiar gleam of a scientist on the brink of a new discovery.  

It was a look he wished he could see.

Could understand.

His lovely assistant, far stronger and braver than he had thought previously, shot him a sharp glance from her camel and shook her head before turning back to her typewriter and the thin slip of paper emerging from it’s ebony shell.  She did not wish to speak with him, at all, something he completely and utterly deserved.

If not necessarily enjoyed.

He sighed and glanced over his shoulder to where Banner, hunched over his camel with a pained expression on his face and a slightly sickly green cast to his skin, rode beside Barton, Barnes and Prince Thor Odinson.  

All three kept a careful eye on the prisoners riding with wrists bound before them and Banner simply rode beside Barton to keep the archer company.

Stark sucked his teeth for a second and studied Stephen Strange, who’s serene expression did very little to reassure Stark.

He knew what cat’s looked like, when waiting for mice to emerge from beneath cupboards for a late night snack.

He knew the ropes knotting the magician’s wrists would do little when it came to containing the man.  

“Come with me,” he growled as he stretched out a hand for Pepper’s reins and before she could protest, tugged her from the line.  She gasped and rocked in her saddle, but regained her balance and her composure.  

A dangerous scowl slipped in place beneath the brim of her burnoose and the edges of her goggles but he did not let her scare him-he simply halted their camels and waited for a few more of their company to pass.  Rumiko did not even spare him a glance, simply rode on by, with young Private Parker at her side.  

He tried to summon some regret for the state of his engagement to the Fujikawa heiress but ultimately he failed.  

There was a code to solve.

And a young woman to fully understand, riding beside him.

“Right,” he said, his voice a bizarre mix of scolding and pleading.  “Tell me what you have or I’ll steal your scarf.”  

Her eyes widened behind the tinted lenses of her mother’s goggles and and she choked out a shocked laugh, her hands rising from the heavy sphere in her lap to her lips.  Her leather gloves spread over her mouth and absurdly he shivered at the thought of those fingers trailing over his very skin.

The metal set within his skin.  

“My scarf?” she sputtered from behind her hands, her voice full of disbelief and humor and he smiled in response.  

“Yes, your scarf,” he growled as he stretched out a hand to tug lightly at the blue and gold silk encasing her face and hair.  She shrieked and pulled away, only allowing him to succeed in removing the elegant fabric from her face and he chuckled as her red hair, dislodged from its pins, tumbled once more around her shoulders.  “So tell me what your father really wrote and maybe I’ll return your item to you madam.”  His grin widened as she rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her breast and to her abject horror he wrapped it around his head, hat and all and simpered in her direction.  “Please Miss Potts?” he asked in a sing-song voice and she sighed.

He did not miss the humor in her eyes though, or the faint smile touching her lips.

“Oh very well,” she grumbled as she bent to the typewriter in her lap and tugged the paper she had been furiously typing upon, free.  “Read this first and then I will show you the letter.”  

Stark’s eyebrow rose but he did not protest-simply took the slip of paper from her and read the twenty or so words typed evenly down the page.  They were silent for a long while, their camels moving once more in a slow ambling walk and neither noticed Barton sitting his camel a little distance ahead of them, his eyes cold and his fingers tight around the bow in his lap.  Smoke billowed from his lips as he drew thoughtfully on the cigarette tucked in the corner of his mouth but he kept his thoughts to himself as he watched his employer ride companionably beside the young lady at his side.

It wasn’t his place to say much of anything.

But considering the day’s festivities and the bruises on the young lady’s throat he suspected it would be a topic to bring up before the night was through.

Especially considering the dangerous glares Madam Fujikawa had been shooting Stark throughout the day.  

“Well, this is most interesting Miss Potts,” Stark murmured after a long, silent moment full of nothing but the sighing of sand beneath their camels’ webbed toes and the murmuring of a moonlit tinted breeze between their rather close bodies.  He glanced at her, at her sharply drawn profile and he shrugged before continuing, “but I don’t really see how this is a code.”

She chuckled and glanced at him, her glasses catching the moonlight in such a way that her eyes glowed eerily in his direction and he shivered.  “You wouldn’t, now would you Dr. Stark?” she asked with a soft smile on her lips and a gentle pat to her camel’s neck.  “That is, after all, a Craticus Potts invention and as such only known by my mother and two of his closest friends.”  Another moonlit glance and he frowned at the knowing in her gaze.  “You were never taught by your father I take it?”

The dark humor in her voice and the tense muscles jumping in her jaw was sign enough of how irritated and frustrated she truly was with the letter sitting in her satchel and with him and he realized instantaneously that her humor of a few moments previously had been a bitter summoning of any composure she may have had before this disastrous day.  

He smiled and shrugged.  “My father and I did not get on,” he said as he turned back to the long list of words, most of which he remembered reading in the letter and as she fiddled with her satchel and the typewriter he leaned back in his saddle.  “He probably taught me once-upon-a-time but I most likely forgot.”

She did not reply, simply thrust the letter in his direction and tapped the opening line.   _I have been told you accompany a group of American explorers to Saqqara_ , it read and his eyes widened as he took in the ink, now lit by pale moonlight and his eyes drifted from the letter to the slip of paper resting in his lap.

 _Saqqara is two days away, Pepper,_ the typewritten words read.   _The watch I left you will provide the key to the pyramid's entry, if you are truly determined enough to find what Stark seeks.  Remember, the watch holds the key and only you, my daughter, can activate the message it holds._

“Oh,” he breathed as realization dawned on him and the truth of Craticus Potts scrawling struck him.  “It’s not so much as a code as a hidden message.  Written in-in-”

Words failed him and she smiled and tapped the letter once more.  “Written in an ink my father invented and only shared with a few of his closest friends.  It’s how that-” she pointed at his chest, “-was created, correct, and why you are so determined to get to Saqqara, isn’t it?”  

Stark, completely shocked could only nod and his fingers rose to press against the clockwork spinning ever onward in his chest.  “Yes,” he breathed as he read Craticus Potts’ true letter once more and tried to keep from thinking of the blueprints his father had once poured over, moonlit activated ink staining the parchment spread before him.  “Oh yes, this makes so much more sense than the warning he’d written in plain ink.”

She nodded and gritted her teeth.  “It does but the warning is still there Dr. Stark,” she murmured as he handed both copies of her father’s letter back to her to be squirreled away within the safety of her satchel.  “But it will not stop me from finding the truth of Saqqara and the element he and that odd magician are guarding.”

Her eyes drifted in his direction once more and he shivered at the blank white glare in her gaze.  “He gave us the key-why would he warn us away?”

Stark only shrugged and opened his mouth to reply but in that moment there was a terrific blast from the head of their far distant caravan and as the world exploded in white light all around them and a terrifying roar filled the chilled desert air, he cursed and coughed sand from his mouth before stretching out a hand to steady Pepper upon her saddle.

“What the devil?!” he sputtered as their camels rocked and panicked beneath them and Clint Barton suddenly appeared at their sides, his bow raised and his eyes wild as he surveyed the desert around their camels.  “What is going on Barton?!” Stark snarled as Pepper coughed and spat dust from her mouth, her voice ragged as she soothed her trembling steed.  

Clint Barton’s eyes locked on his employer’s and his lips curled in a snarl as he growled, “Hammer’s team was only a few miles ahead of us, according to Rogers.  I think our company just stumbled upon a welcoming committee.”

His words were punctuated with another roar and Pepper paled as both men flinched.  “Dr. Banner,” she breathed as the roar died away and the sounds of gunfire began to echo through the desert.  “Oh no!”

Before the men could stop her or question how she knew of that particular doctor’s affliction, she was gone, her camel’s long legs kicking up clouds of pale sand as it went and Stark cursed.

“We have to stop her!” he shouted as he kicked his own steed into action and prepared to ride to his friends’ rescue.  

He did not get far.

Barton’s hand darted out to clasp his camel’s reins and Stark gasped as the great beast haulted and he barely stopped himself from tipping headlong over his camel’s ears.  “What the devil, Barton?!” he shouted as he turned to face his dour bodyguard.  “What was tha-”

His words died as a bolt was leveled between his eyes and the archer’s lips curled within the shadows of his Stetson.  

“Sorry Stark,” he growled as Stark panted and tried to wrap his mind around this rather unexpected betrayal, ultimately failing, much to his horror.  “Can’t let you do that.”  

His blue eyes glinted with a oh-so familiar golden gleam and as Stark’s widened in horrified understanding the crossbow rose and then fell, firmly, against his temple.  

“Night, Anthony,” the thing that wore Clint Barton’s face purred as Stark crumpled and slid from his saddle to fall limply within the sands of Egypt.  

There was a faint hum as Barton straightened, the faint tick of gears hidden beneath leather and something that looked like skin but most definitely was not skin and his lips curled as he drew upon the cigarette tucked between his lips.

“Better not sleep for long, Tony,” he murmured as stretched out a hand for the riderless camel’s saddlebags and the device only he and one other knew about that nestled safe and sound within the doctor’s belongings.  His gold-blue gaze settled on the unconscious doctor’s form as a heavy brass and clockwork device about the size of a small suitcase, settled in his palms and his smile grew at the sight of moonlight drifting over the sharp corners of Dr. Stark’s most secret device.  “Wouldn’t want a grain of sand disrupting that heart of yours, hm?” he hummed as the device settled in his lap and his camel began to stride towards the glowing horizon where gunfire still sounded, along with the dangerous roar of a monster he rather enjoyed seeing awaken.  

Stark’s camel followed the thing that wore Clint Barton’s face and the man groaned in agony as his gears lurched in his chest and his mind struggled to regain consciousness.

“Pepper,” he sobbed as his heart throbbed and his lungs fluttered in agony.  “Pepper, please…”

His mind went dark once more.

But not before he heard a woman’s voice screaming his name.

Screaming his name and sobbing as a monster bellowed in the distance.

_TONY!!!!_

**

“The mech Cook cut Hammer's and his daughter's ropes,” Natasha panted as her bracelets hummed and the massive monster of a mechanized man she’d been battling for several moments collapsed with a scream of broken gears and lost steam.  

Logan shot her a glare and sliced the head off one of the mechanical kitchen maids.  “No?  I hadn’t noticed,” he growled through a cloud of cigar smoke stained with mech oils.  

Natasha rolled her eyes and turned to yet another of Hammer’s mech’s; this would be her tenth “kill,” if the word kill could even be applied to a pile of gears and steam, in the past hour since Hammer’s companion’s had surged to life as one and taken the SHIELD agents by surprise.  

“We’re going to need back-up,” she growled as she dug her fingernails deep in the sockets of the mechanized coal-shoveler and popped its golden eyes free of it’s skull.  There was a screech and a hiss of too hot steam issued straight towards her face, causing her to duck with a curse but the mech halted it’s killing blows long enough for her to yank it’s engine free of it’s chest.  “Quickly,” she finished as she tossed the iron heart away and glanced over her shoulder to see Ororo Munroe straightening from her own pile of dismantled clockwork, the weather machine clasped tightly in her hands.

Her eyes were already that bizarre milky white and Natasha’s eyes widened.  

“Logan!” she shouted as dark figures rose on the horizon behind their compatriot. “Ororo-”

She got no further.

There was a blast of white light, almost as if the heavens above them had erupted in lightning and a massive figure, three times the size of a normal man, straightened upon the dune Ororo had climbed desperately, just moments before in hopes of summoning some sort of weather to aid them.  

As their eyes adjusted to the darkness once more sweeping down upon them after the bright flash the weather machine had fed into the elements, there was an answering roar and everyone, mechanized and living alike, froze in response.

Only Logan maintained his calm.

He actually smiled around the butt of his cigar and there was a comforting ‘snikt’ as his claws sprang free of their leather gauntlets.

“Well,” he growled as he turned towards the three sets of tracks leading away from their now destroyed camp, “looks like we got backup.”  

Natasha only sighed and clipped two new discs of electro-pulsars into her bracelets.  “About time,” she muttered as she turned to the mech creeping towards her, murder in its golden gaze.  “Stark certainly takes his time.”  

Another roar answered her but she was too busy dismantling mech to reply.  

Instead she yanked a head free and hummed a Russian funeral march to herself.

She did not see a mechanized arm stretch towards her or hear an answering voice, murmuring the words of the march back to her in Russian.

Not until it was far, far too late.

“ _Kakogo cherta_!” she shrieked as a voice from her past murmured in her ear, “Hello Natasha.”  

Mechanized gears hummed in her ear as she was jerked backwards into a broad chest she prayed she’d never feel beneath hers ever again and her eyes closed as cold metal fingers tightened around her throat.

“Hello James,” she murmured as he began to squeeze the air from her lungs.  “You finally caught me then.”  

He only chuckled and leveled a gun in yet another mechanized engineer’s direction.  

“Always knew I would Natalia,” he purred as he pulled the trigger and the mech exploded in a flare of fire and shattered metal.  “Always knew I would.”

She shivered in his arms and tried to keep from turning so she could see his gaze once more, this time devoid of layers of diaphenous black silk.  "I always counted on it," she murmured as her bracelets hummed and she helped him dismantle a tiny mechanized duster that had come too close to their boots.  

Roars and gunfire filled the air around them and both were so caught up in their tiny dramatic reunion they did not notice a woman’s scream split the night air and her sobbing of one name.  

Neither noticed nor cared as Pepper realized she’d made it to the camp sans her employer.  

“ _Tony!”_ she shrieked as her camels feet churned in the sand and Dr. Banner’s alter-ego bellowed angrily in the distance.  “ _Tony, where are you!”_

There was no answer and no one came to her aid.  

She swallowed heavily and turned her gaze to the route she had just come down and she sighed.

“Blast,” she growled to herself as she turned her camel’s mighty head back and kicked him once more into motion.  “The blasted man.”  

 _TONY!_ she shouted over and over, desperate for an answer of any sort.  

_TONY!!_

There was no answer.

Until…

There was.

“Hello Miss Potts,” Barton’s growling voice replied from the shadows of his deep hat and she shivered at the gold glint she suddenly sighted in his eyes.  

It was a glint that should not have been in a human eye.

“Blast,” she whispered to herself as he leveled his bow upon her and a voice groaned her name in the distance.  “ _Blast.”_

 _"Tony!"_ she shrieked one last time as a bolt clicked into place and a string hummed, counterpoint to her panic.  

_Tony, help me!_


	20. Blood and Brass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time. I apologize for that. But my excuses are lame so I won't give you any. 
> 
> I've made this story my goal for 2016. I only have a few chapters left really, I just need to suck it up and crush it. 
> 
> I don't know if anyone is even interested in this story anymore...It's been actual years since I've even touched it but you know what I DON'T CARE. This is my white whale. And I'm going to slaughter this.
> 
> -M

“Trust Hammer to construct an army of mechanized maids,” Carol panted to James Barnes and the Lady Sif, who fought fiercely at her side.  They stood, backs against the wagons where Peter Parker and Bobbi Morse slept, and faced the creeping mech with wide-eyed looks of horror on their faces.  Carol’s black tattoos writhed and roiled along the edges of her eyes, lending her a macabre look that sent shivers of unease darting up her companions’ spines.  

Golden energy tumbled from her fingers, from her hair, from every single bit of her and she grinned through the black lines crawling along her face.  “Watch your three o’clock Barnes.”

The soldier swore softly in Russian and before the mechanized butler could wrap its metal fingers around his throat and  _ squeeze, _ his arm hummed and the fingers vanished up into his shoulder to reveal a double barreled pistol..

The sharp report of the gun’s blast was lost in the surrounding sounds of battle and Barnes grinned as the gears in his arm’s elbow hummed loudly and another bullet slid into place.  Carol rolled her eyes at the sight of him showing off but continued summoning her curious energized powers to keep the mechanized brutes surrounding them at bay.

“How many of the metal freaks does the bastard have, anyway?” she snarled, mostly to herself as the air tensed around her and her eyes took on a golden light that boded nothing but ill for the few remaining soldiers around them.

Sif snorted and simply hefted her broadsword, carved in ancient runes and imagery from Norse legend, before beginning to sing a warrior’s battle-hymn.  

Sigyn, kneeling between their wards, closed her eyes and took up the hymn as well, her sweet soprano weaving expertly with Sif’s alto and the SHIELD liaisons glanced warily at each other.

“That does not bode well, Danvers,” Barnes murmured as he fiddled with his arm and the gears whined steadily within his shoulder.  His eyes drifted from the churning sands around them to the battling group just to their left and at the sight of red hair streaming and white energy dancing at a shadow’s wrists, he sighed.  

Carol gritted her teeth and raised her gloved hands, palms outthrust and kept her gaze firmly locked forward.  “Just keep Bobbi and Peter safe, Barnes,” she growled as the air thickened around them and her hair began to snap and writhe with a golden light that lit the encroaching night threatening to drown them and their companions.  “That’s all that matters.”  

As a monster coal shoveler, with spades for hands and fangs for chomping the larger bits of coal snapping in their direction, rose before her out of the sands, the tattoos around her eyes writhed and suddenly she was nothing but golden energy bursting outwards with a force akin to a wildfire finding fuel in a long dead forest.

_ Protect the others, _ her voice echoed in his and Sif’s ears and they gasped as the energy-hotter than any flame either had ever felt-washed over them and Barnes shouted Carol’s name desperately as Sif swept her shield up and over his head and Sigyn’s heavy cloak covered them and their charges.

But Carol did not hear.

And metal turned to liquid all around them.

Still, though, Hammer’s army crept over the churning sands in their direction-even as the winds whipped the humans’ hair and ropes of golden energy danced at their feet.  

The desert writhed and very few saw any hope of victory.

Save a few.

One of which was the entity some called Binary.

The Marvel of the Amazon.  

_ Fools. _

**

Rumiko’s blade sighed through shining metal and glass and she grinned fiercely as the fiesty mechanized engineer crumpled at her feet.  Peggy, standing tall and brave at her back, a pistol tight in each of her hands, cheered the mech’s demise and laughed.  “If my mother could see me now!” she crowed into the night as she took aim and fired, shattering the glittering golden eyeball of a mech bellboy.  The bell in his head chimed sadly when her bullet struck it, but the mech did not fall.  It staggered and continued creeping upon them, it’s steps lurching and ragged.  

Bits of metal-brass and iron-hung off of it’s limbs in shreds and three of its spindly fingers were lacking, but still it moved forward, desperate to fulfill its sole purpose in life.

To destroy the master’s enemies.  

“Your mother would scold you and then promptly faint, Margaret,” Rumiko muttered distractedly as she swung her katana and settled once more into a warrior’s stance. Peggy simply giggled and loaded her guns with bullets engraved with the Stark insignia.  The smell of gunpowder, oil and scorched metal filled the night air and she had never felt so alive.  

Never felt so brave.  

Rumiko swung her blade carefully, the sing-song humming it made in the night air lending her strength and she glanced over her shoulder.  Mechanized servants, in various states of disrepair, shambled around them and she sighed.  “Hammer’s army will overwhelm us,” she muttered as several more mech’s emerged from the  _ Lady Beatrice’s _ rubble.  Most were incomplete-simple cleaners, sweepers and chamber straighteners-but all shone in the Egyptian moonlight, all moved with deadly accuracy.  

A roar, as irritated as she herself was becoming, echoed over them and the air crackled with white hot energy. 

Their company was scattered, battling desperately in their own pockets of chaos and as she and Peggy moved in a tight circle dismantling mech after mech, she found herself counting.

Frank Castle and Captain Rogers fought several engineers, each as burly as the Stark companions, and they moved quickly from sand dune to sand dune, their soldier-instincts lending them a certain deadliness in the uncertain desert terrain.  

Carol, James Barnes and the Lady Sif were laughing and jesting near the wagons, tucked near the oasis.  Sigyn stood upon the wagon’s bench, her hands folded over a spear Rumiko had never seen her carry before now.  Her blonde hair shone like white gold in the moonlight and her armor, ancient and engraved with twisted runes, shone through the blue gown draping her limbs.  

The four warriors were surrounded by broken robots, their legs spattered with oil and golden energy danced around them.  

It seemed to radiate from Carol and Rumiko sighed to herself.

If there was one thing she hated, it was the supernatural.

She couldn’t explain it using science or numbers.

Her eyes drifted as she twisted her fingers around the eyeballs of the maid Peggy had very nearly dismantled and she frowned.  

Logan battled steadily at Ororo Munroe’s side, silver claws sparking against metal and the woman at his side knelt with her hands upon a globe full of crackling energy.  The golden haired prince, Thor Odinson, stood at Ororo’s back, his staff with the hammer head raised and he seemed to be speaking with the lovely soldier.  White hot light danced from her fingers to his and that same energy filled their eyes.  As she watched his staff began to spin and the air became thick with heat.  She shuddered as the fine airs on the back of her neck and along her arms rose in response to their energy and she forced her attention to the rest of the group.

The other newcomers, the wizard and red cloaked priest, drifted along the edges of their company, dismantling mech with ease.  Charter symbols danced from the magician’s fingers, melting anything brass they came across.  His robes swirled around his legs and his feet, suspended a fair bit above the sand, pointed daintily.  

It would have been amusing.

If he wasn’t  _ suspended _ on something that looked like a golden tinted cloud.

She shuddered and sank her katana in the eyeball of a maid with needles for fingers, biting off a rather unladylike curse as the mech snagged the fine silk of her robe but still her eyes kept drifting around their scattered company, absently taking note of who fought who.  

The maid crumpled with a sigh of ruptured steam sacks and tinkling gears falling upon sandy gravel and Rumiko’s blade once more sang as she removed it from the glass cased skull of the machine.  

The blind man was interesting, she reflected as she tugged Peggy backwards further up the dune, towards a copse of browning palms; the priest’s red coat billowed around him and the deep hood he wore did nothing to hide the red gleam of his glasses.  She wondered idly if they were made by Summers Spectacleries in San Francisco; the red hue matched the craftsman’s perfectly and she had never seen the likes of his goggles in any of her travels.  Perhaps she should ask when they finally were free of these pesky, ill-constructed machines.  

The staff Murdock had held so easily while trying to keep his companions calm, was a whirling blur and a single brow rose as the staff dented metal skulls and shattered golden eyes, cutting a swathe of destruction all around him as he headed in Castle and Rogers’ directions.  

“Well,” she murmured as she watched the wizard summon a rose-hued cloud of energy between the scarred palms of his hands and throw it quite carefully at a snake-like duster; the mech exploded in a rain of shattered gears and broken steam valves and her lips twitched as the priest twitched his coat in disdain and whirled his staff in response to the wizard’s exuberant destruction.  The two men were obviously competing with each other, on who could kill more metal.  “They certainly know how to take care of themselves.”  

Peggy giggled once more and her pistols echoed sullenly around them.  

Gunpowder and oil had become such a normal smell for both women they could not miss the smell of burning ozone and they gasped as the desert in Carol Danvers and James Barnes’ direction erupted in a golden light.  As Rumiko’s eyes adjusted she turned her gaze from the desert surrounding her and Peggy towards the golden energy and she swallowed nervously at the sight of something that may have once been a woman suspended within the writhing energy; she could have sworn, as she watched, the entity threw back her head and laughed as metal melted at her feet and the Norse warrior maidens shielded their charges.  

_ Fools _ , a chilling voice that resembled Carol Danvers only a bit, echoed around them and as Peggy cursed at her back and mech continued to creep in her direction, Rumiko Fujikawa swore to herself that she would never cross the blonde SHIELD liaison ever again.   

Just as she was certain she would be blind forever after this desperate battle, another roar split the night, much nearer to where they fought and she tensed.  There was one in their company-one she did not wish to take stock of.

Her knuckles turned white around the hilt of her blade and silk sighed as she eased one foot forward through the deep sand they still backed slowly through.  Snarls followed them, crept towards them, and as her flash-blinded eyes endeavored to adjust once more to the deep Saharan night, she prayed silently to any gods, Egyptian or otherwise, that this was nothing more than a beast of the desert they destroyed.  Anything but…

Anything other than  _ him. _

“Bruce,” Peggy sighed sadly, her pistols lowering as she and her cousin’s betrothed stilled-anything to keep from drawing the beast’s attention to their location.  “He hasn’t been able to tame the monster.”  

Rumiko’s eyes narrowed as she turned slowly, searching for the shadow she very dearly wished to never see.  Memories of stumbling upon Dr. Banner when he was in one of his rages, fought to overwhelm her and she took a deep breath.  He was here, here with them and she wasn’t entirely sure who was the most dangerous. 

Frank Castle, Hammer’s goons or…

Anthony Stark’s friend.  

_ Tony will calm the monster... _

“Where is Anthony?” she asked suddenly as the ground trembled beneath her feet and her blade destroyed yet another metal freak that had followed them doggedly up the slope.  “Have you seen him since we arrived at this hell hole Margaret?”  

Peggy hesitated, lowered her gun-which was foolish, considering their environment-and gasped.  “Tony?! I haven’t seen him since we arrived!  Oh god, where is he?”

Neither got a chance to answer, because in that very moment there was an ominous scream of gears from directly behind them and from their front…

A snarl and the very distinct rumblings of a roar. 

“Oh no,” Peggy whimpered as brass fingers flashed out to wrap viciously around her throat and a green fist threw Rumiko aside.

“Bruce STOP!”

Dr. Banner was not quite present at the moment though and as Rumiko’s vision darkened as she flew through the air and Peggy’s lungs began to starve, his counterpart snarled and turned furious green eyes upon where she hung, several feet in the air from a mechanized coal shoveler’s arm.

“NO,” he roared as he pounded his fists together and gnashed his teeth.  “NO, PEG, NO.”

The sound of metal crumbling under the green fists of a giant monster who had once been a gentle doctor deafened her and her blood ran cold as he straightened over her and a voice just behind him whispered her name.

“Oh no Bruce,” she choked through the bruises on her throat.  “What did you do?”

“Peggy,” the voice whispered once more and her blood ran cold at the sound of her nickname falling from those lips and not her given name.  “Peggy,  _ run _ .”  

She couldn’t run though.

There was a metal skeleton on her legs and her lungs were heaving desperately.

Green eyes did not leave hers and she shivered when his fingers stroked through her hair.  “CLINT?” he asked as she whimpered and strained towards the crumpled shadow just past his massive legs.  “WHERE?”

She shook her head and tears began to prick her eyes.  “I don’t know, Bruce,” she whispered.  “I don’t know where Barton is, or Tony for that matter.”  She caught his hand, brave, despite the monster panting over her and she gritted her teeth as her legs screamed in agony.  “Please, Bruce, Ru needs me!”  

He did not listen.

He simply snarled and flared his nose.  

Before she could stop him he was gone, off into the shadows to find his friends and she was left lying in the sand, half conscious and her fingers straining towards her cousin’s betrothed.  

“Ru,” she whimpered.  “Ru, please!”

“Run,” the Japanese woman whispered into the blowing Egyptian sands.  “ _ Run.”   _

Peggy Carter couldn’t run though.

The night was full of monsters and she was most definitely not strong enough to fight them off on her own.

Blood darkened Rumiko’s lips, streamed from her nose to drip sickeningly into the sands stained with oil.  The rock she’d struck when the Hulk had tossed her so easily dug into her spine but she did not feel it.

She did not feel anything.

Blood coated her tongue but she did not taste it.

Margaret was screaming.

But she did not hear. 

_ Run, _ she thought as pain gripped her and her vision faded entirely.   _ Run away from this Hell Peggy...Please. _

The soft sigh of her last breath was lost in the sounds of rending metal and the terrible roars of thunder overhead but the only one who witnessed the Fujikawa Empire heir’s death was the Stark’s heir.  

“Tony,” Peggy screamed as gears continued to churn in the desert air and oil soaked into the stiff wool of her slacks.  “Tony,  _ help us! _ ”

She did not notice a figure squatting at her feet and reaching a gloved hand into the bowels of the monster.  Did not notice those fingers twisting around the gasket of the steam powered tank, crushing the hoses in one move.  

All she noticed was the moonlight glinting in Rumiko’s glassy eyes and the blood drying on her lips.

“Tony,” she sobbed over and over as she dug her fingers into the oil stained sand she sprawled upon.  “Please, help me.”

A soft chuckle full of gnashing gears and hissing steam met her words and she shrieked as two hands gripped her ankles and yanked her into the shadows, away from Rumiko’s body.  

“Tony Stark can’t help you, pet,” a familiar voice whispered and she thrashed in terror she screamed Tony’s name once more.

But no one heard her.

No one, save Justin Hammer, Justine Hammer and the golden eyed monster masquerading as Clint Barton.

“Hello Miss Carter,” Justin Hammer murmured as the mech yanked her into it’s desperately strong arms.  “How lovely of you to join us.”

Her next shriek was lost in another rumble of thunder overhead and the villains surrounding her chuckled as she swooned in the mech’s arms.  

“Finish the rest of them,” Hammer snarled, yanking the slender woman into his arms as he did.  “Find Wilson and take them out.  You finished off Stark and the Potts girl?”  

The brute wearing Barton’s face nodded, a faint hum of gears sounding and the Hammer’s smiled coolly at their greatest deception before turning once more into the night and trekking towards the river, where they hoped to find transportation.  

Peggy Carter, unconscious and more than a little battered, swung limply from Hammer’s arms but for all their secrecy and sneaking about, her absence was noted by at least two of the Stark company.  

“Find her,” Steve Rogers snarled, James Barnes and Frank Castle at his back.  Lightning flashed overhead with his words and the two men shuddered at the static energy washing over them from the natural and supernatural storm still brewing around them.  “Find her,  _ now! _ ”  

Both men nodded as the Captain knelt and swept Madam Fujikawa’s body into his arms but neither said anything.

They simply faded into the desert, turning grey now that dawn crept upon them.

None of the company noticed two figures pacing towards them from the direction of the river. 

None of the company noticed two pivotal members of their group were missing as well.

None of the company knew what awaited them, in the Egyptian dawn.

“Well, well, well,” Wade Wilson hummed as he swung his katanas and grinned in Natasha Romanova’s direction.  “Ain’t this just the dandiest party Mr. Robot Barton?  I wonder if they’ll have tea?  Oooh!” The katanas hummed as he swung them nonchalantly about himself and his sickening grin grew as he glanced in his metal companion’s direction.  “Maybe there’ll be chimichangas!”  

The mech simply sighed and headed towards where the red haired assassin knelt beside the white haired weather caster.  

“Shut up Wilson,” it snarled, it’s voice nothing but gnashing gears and hissing steam.  

Very little was left of it’s disguise that resembled the American archer.  

Which suited it just fine. 

“We have a job to do.” 

 


End file.
